Life's Worth
by frecklesandstardust
Summary: Kenny develops depression without realizing what is even happening, and is in denial as he slowly begins to get worse. Craig, who had never taken interest in him before, notices something in Kenny that his friends don't. Craig eventually gets too involved in Kenny's issues. Rated M to be safe. Trigger warnings: suicide, self harm, depression, familial problems, and possibly more.
1. Another Ordinary Day

_**A/N: This chapter is short because it's mainly an introduction to the story to see if I would like to continue. I also didn't know where exactly to end it...**_

_**During editing, spell check would not stop giving me problems, so I fixed what I could then gave up. Please excuse the mistakes that you will probably find.**_

_**In case you didn't read the trigger warnings in the description, here they are: suicide, self harm, depression, familial issues, and other things I might add. With that said, you may continue.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park. It belongs to its original creators.**_

* * *

I jolted up in bed, coughing, feeling as if I'm suffocating. My body felt numb and I lifted my hands, turning them over a few times and pinching each of my arms just to know I'm alive.

"What was it this time?" I mumbled to myself, already having forgotten why I died after being in Hell so long. After a few moments, it came back to me and I cringed. I killed myself.

I sighed, letting my weight fall down with a soft protest from my bed as I did so.

I glanced at the beat up clock beside my bed that read it was just past eleven in the morning, and reluctantly rolled out of bed. My knees buckled, but I caught myself on the corner of my nightstand. I always have hated the feeling of getting back into my body...

In all honesty, I would have preferred to stay in bed all day, but I promised to meet my friends that day. I knew I would just be an awkward fourth wheel to a tricycle, if that even makes any sense.

Since I always woke up in my ordinary parka and ripped jeans, for whatever reason that may be, I only needed to find a clean pair of socks and my worn down boots. Finding breakfast before everyone arrived in ten minutes would be the hardest part.

After I'd gotten my boots on, I trekked into the living room quietly, knowing my parents would be fast asleep on the couches. It was a maze as always. Broken bottles and various other noise-making things were scattered across the floor around my parents. My dad lay on the floor, snoring, and my mother was on the couch, arm hanging down, mouth open, emitting soft sounds.

I carefully avoided everything on the floor and hurried into the kitchen. I found a single package of expired Poptarts in the cupboard and milk that was starting to curdle in the fridge. Other than that, food was scarce. I sighed, figuring I should let my sister have whatever's left when she gets home from her friend's house. I could always bum money off my father while he's drunk so I could at least get a little bit of groceries.

I snuck past my parents once again, this time to leave the house as quietly as I could. The cold Colorado air bit at the skin on my face, causing me to shudder and pull up my hood, pulling the strings tight. It always has been a habit to do that, even if no one can understand me when it muffles my voice.

I squinted to see three figures in the distance, slowly approaching. I stepped off the porch and ran towards them, a stupid grin on my face masked by my hood.

"Hey guys," I said, panting softly.

"Well isn't someone excited to see a movie they can't afford," Eric remarked with a smirk. God, I wish I could just bash his face in, but I know he'd just break my bones. Sure, I have strength, but I'm scrawny and weak compared to him. He's fat, maybe three hundred pounds or so, but some of it is muscle. Not to mention he's like six feet tall whereas I'm only five foot eight, the shortest of my friends.

I always get the feeling Eric Cartman has convinced me that he has the potential to be a future murderer. Scratch that, he is a murderer. I can't even begin to count how many times he's killed me. In fact, everyone in my small town has killed me at least once.

"Don't be an ass, Cartman," Kyle said, elbowing his side, though it did no damage. Kyle is Jewish and people give him hell for it but I couldn't care less. He's got an average build, only a few inches taller than I am. Kyle is a fiery redhead who covers his mess of curls with a bright green ushanka that he's had since elementary school.

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Stan is always annoyed by something, whether it be Kyle and Cartman's constant bickering or just life in general. Typically, though, it's the former. Stan is only half an inch shorter than Kyle, and he's really thin.

I had to agree with Stan's reaction, though. Eric and Kyle have lived by the phrase "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" since Kindergarten.

"Guys, can we not have this fight here? We're going to miss the movie," I said.

"Well, we are. We all know you're just looking for an excuse to get away from home, Kenny," Eric said to me, briefly breaking his argument with Kyle.

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck you, I'm going on my own."

"You probably have herpes or something. Why would I want you to fuck me?" he retorted as I shoved past him.

I whirled around on my heel, punched him in the gut, and turned to walk away again. He coughed a few times, but didn't hit back, so I figured I sufficiently got my message through to him. God only know why I ever actually chose to call that asshole my friend.

After I was a safe distance away, I actually started wondering what the hell I was going to do since I didn't have money. I sighed and settled on going to the park.

Once I reached my destination, I sat down on a swing, the cold metal of the chains freezing my hands through my threadbare gloves. I ignored it, trying to recollect what exactly happened the night before.

I remember being in a bad mood, it happens a lot. Coincidentally, my parents were fighting and I couldn't stand it any longer. So, being so amazing at dying, I shot myself in the head, spent the night in Hell, and got revived by morning. I knew I was missing something, but what? I don't forget my own deaths so why does it feel like I have forgotten crucial information.

I sighed, my breath clouding around me. It was quiet for an afternoon in my town, a little too quiet.

As expected, something disturbed the silence. Footsteps crunching snow. I twisted the chain of the swing so I could turn to see who it was. To my surprise, it was none other than Craig Tucker.

My friends and I used to have this huge rivalry with Craig and his friends. Craig was like a mystery to everyone, even his own family. I can figure most people out, but Craig was one person I never really could read. He's never shown emotion, as if he was done with everyone's bullshit from the moment he was old enough to comprehend the world. He seems to enjoy flipping people off, though. His whole family does, really.

Craig has always been somewhat popular. All the girls love his "badass attitude" and all the guys envy him for getting girls so easily. Despite this, Craig has always been friends with the same three people; Clyde Donovan, Tweek Tweak, and Token Black.

Craig's hair is jet black, his skin is as pale as a ghost, and his eyes somehow have always reminded me of lightning with the brightness of blue that they possess. He always wear a blue chullo, though, so most people only see his bangs that hang in his eyes.

What was even weirder than seeing him outside of school was the fact that he sat down beside me.

"What brings you here, Tucker?" I ask.

"I should ask you the same thing, McCormick," he says in his typical monotone voice.

"I asked you first," I said, grinning.

"Maybe I was just looking for a place to smoke," he says.

"You can do that at home, liar."

"Fresh air?"

"Tell the truth, Tucker."

"Fuck off," he said, flipping me off.

I laugh and decide to leave him alone about it since I really didn't feel like being punched. Sure, Craig piques my curiousity, but I would not want to piss him off by trying to learn more.

I kick my feet back and forth, eventually gaining momentum and starting to swing. The air was once again biting my face, but I didn't care as much as I had earlier. It felt like I was flying, and before I knew it, I had let go of the chains and flung myself off the swing. My feet hit the ground heavily, shooting a wave of pain through my whole body. I took in a sharp breath, ignoring it.

"Jesus fuck, dude," I heard Craig say.

I turned, puzzled. "What?"

"I thought you were going to break a leg or bust your head open or something." Somehow he was managing to stay monotone while saying this.

"Why? Are you worried or something?"

"No, I just didn't want to be convicted of murder because someone finds my fingerprints here and your dead body there," he says, as if it were an obvious fact.

"They would have to have your fingerprints on file to deduct that," I say. "Then again, you were almost sent to juvie in like middle school for spray painting a middle finger on the building."

"Exactly. They took my fingerprints then."

"Either way, the police in this town are dumbfucks and wouldn't do anything." I sit back on the swing, twisting slightly to face Craig.

"You act like you've experienced this." He raises an eyebrow at me.

I simply shrug. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't."

He rolls his eyes and stands. "It also seems like you're hiding something. Whatever. I've got to go before my mom bitches at me for being away too long." He starts walking off without saying anymore.

"You know, Tucker, everyone has secrets. It's best not to get involved or you'll reveal your own in the process," I say to his back.

He doesn't turn, but somehow, I can tell that affected him.

I watch him walk away, rocking slowly in the swing. Something in me tells me to follow because something is off, but I ignore it, knowing that Craig is not someone to fuck with. Though, I did become more curious after that encounter.

"Maybe one day I'll decipher the mystery that is Craig Tucker," I mumbled to myself, still staring despite him not being in sight anymore.


	2. The Downfall Begins

_**A/N**_**_: This has gotten a lot more activity than I expected. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed. It always encourages me to update sooner when I see how many people actually like what I've been writing. _**

**_Some of you may have noticed the little line (ー) between time skips. I forgot to edit that out from the rough draft. This time, though, I have fixed that mistake._**

**_With that said, on to the disclaimer!_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

After my recent death, I had lost track of time and was a day behind, which was why I was highly confused about Karen's worried face when I got home that night.

Karen is the youngest of my family, being two years younger than me and six years younger than my elder brother. She has chocolate brown eyes and hair that's a slightly lighter shade, like my father. She's thin, but healthier than I was at her age. She's as innocent as a girl of fourteen years can be, and it's quite a shock considering our home life and how my brother and I were before we weren't even seven.

"Where were you? You were gone when I got home a few hours ago and it's dark now." She looked as if she were going to cry, which I don't doubt she already had. "Dad went out drinking, and Mom just left the house without an explanation."

I brought her into my arms, and she buried her face in my neck as I stroked her hair. "It's okay. I just lost track of time when I was with my friends." It was a lie that I hated to tell. Lying to Karen was easy, but I rarely could forgive myself for it because she didn't deserve that.

In all honesty, I'd just wandered the town, walking aimlessly, just thinking. I've done that a lot recently.

"Still, I worry," she mumbled, her voice muffled and barely audible.

"I know. But I'm back and we both need to sleep. The weekend isn't forever."

Karen pulled back and looked up at me with hopeful eyes. "Can I sleep with you tonight? You're freezing cold, and the house is already cold enough with winter coming."

"Is that question necessary? You know you're always welcome," I tell her, smiling softly.

"Okay, I'll meet you in your room after I'm ready for bed," she says, darting into her room with a smile on her face.

I went to my room, and changed to a simple black long sleeve with holes in it, not bothering to put pants on since boxers were usually enough.

A few moments later, Karen appeared in a frilly nightgown that she's had for a few years now. It was worn when we got it, but now it just looks a bit pitiful, as with all our clothes.

We went through the same thing we did most nights; wordlessly getting it bed and under the blanket, her getting as close as possible and burying her head in my chest, and me wrapping my arms around her. We probably looked more like lovers instead of siblings.

She was the first to fall asleep, as always, and I eventually began to be lulled by her steady, even breathing.

That night, I awoke, shivering. For a while, I had unsuccessfully tried to sleep. I gave up eventually, and rolled out of bed to grab my phone.

My parents are so oblivious that they never noticed I had one. I didn't use it much, only when I needed it, because phone bills are expensive enough without overusing data.

I opened up Google, and blankly stared at the screen for a few moments. Then, I typed in the word "suicide". I still don't know what compelled me to do this, but this is one of the things that had begun my downward spiral.

Pictures of suicide notes, quotes, people hanging themselves, people shooting themselves, people overdosing, and as I got further, people cutting themselves. A few "get help" pictures appeared, but I ignored them.

I couldn't really wrap my head around the fact that all these people that only had one life, one body, could kill and harm themselves. At the same time, though, I was curious. Somehow, something deep inside me could relate.

I set my phone down and got out of bed, making sure not to wake Karen.

I then ventured through the quiet house and into my parents' room. They still weren't home so I only had to worry about Karen.

A utility razorblade sat on their dresser next to a pill bottle of marijuana. I picked up the blade and held it to the window, examining it under the moonlight. It was clean, most likely new.

I rolled up my sleeve and moved my arm into the moonlight with it. Pressing the blade in, I drug it slowly across the base of my wrist, making a thin, straight line. It burned a little as blood began to form in little red beads. I was mesmerized by it, for whatever reason. I repeated the process a few more times, continuing to make shallow, small cuts on my wrists. I thought about how calm I was. Even if I had experienced death multiple times, even if I had killed myself before, I never thought I would harm myself like this. Yet, I didn't seem to care one bit.

I slipped the blade into my pocket, and moved into the kitchen to clean up. I dabbed the cuts with a paper towel until the bleeding eventually stopped.

After throwing the paper towel into the trash where it wouldn't be seen, I once again examined my skin under the moonlight. It was puffy around the red lines from the cuts.

I rolled down my sleeves after admiring my work, though it wasn't really admiration. I couldn't quite believe I had done that to myself.

Once back into the bedroom, I crawled in bed next to Karen and fell asleep almost instantly. Funny how it helped me sleep.

* * *

I shivered and blew into my hands as I awaited the bus. Kyle, Cartman, and Stan were conversing as usual, but I wasn't really paying attention. I think Cartman was boasting about how much KFC he ate in a minute or something. He's such a pig. I would kill to have as much food as he does. But I happened to get a shitty family that I'm stuck with.

Karen doesn't typically come to the bus stop. She prefers to walk with her friend, Ike. He's Kyle's adoptive brother that's a few years younger, but he's like a child prodigy so he's in her grade.

The bus arrives, and the four of us pile on. We all sit in the back, Stan with Kyle, and me with Eric.

Stan and Kyle create their own conversation, chattering about the TV show that we've been fans of since we were little children. Eric begins to pester me, poking at my ribs and trying to get my attention.

"What do you want, fatass?" I ask, glaring at him.

"One, I'm not fat, it's just muscle," he says matter-of-factly.

I almost snickered at the thought because he used to always say he was just big-boned but now he claims he's all muscle.

"Two, I need to copy your English homework." Of course the lazy fuck didn't do it.

"I didn't do it. Get it from Stan and Kyle," I told him, turning to the window.

"Stupid white trash," I heard him murmur.

I was used to hearing that, so it didn't bother me. It never really has. It used to piss me off sometimes, but other than that, I didn't really care.

It was a short ride to the school, and I made sure I was one of the first off the bus. I didn't want to be near Eric any longer than I had to. He's seriously a dick. When he can't bother Kyle, he bothers me. He feeds off of lowering the self esteem of others.

I made sure my parka strings were tight as I entered the school. Nobody gives much of a fuck about kids wearing hats and hoods while in class and I don't speak anyways so they don't make me take it off to speak clearly.

As I walked through the relatively empty halls, I felt watched. Glancing around, I spotted someone dressed in all blue. Our eyes met briefly, and it was as if I was drawn to him. I began walking alongside him.

"Fuck off, McCormick."

"Is that how you like to start conversations or something?" I ask.

Craig flips me off in response.

"Someone's moody," I commented, chuckling.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. Can't I simply walk with my pal Craig?"

"Since when are we 'pals'?"

"Geez, you're no fun," I say with a sigh.

"Well then why don't you go bug the other dipfucks you hang out with?"

I put a hand over my chest and said dramatically, "Craig, I'm hurt! How could you say such a thing?"

He rolls his eyes and walks faster, but I keep pace with him.

"Dude, just leave me alone," he said, giving me a look that could kill.

I raise my hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine, have fun killing your lungs," I said as he exited the school to smoke. He always does that. I then turned on my heel to get to first period. Couldn't hurt to be early, right?

* * *

I sat outside the cafeteria at the very back of the school, my stomach growling softly. I didn't see a point in being in there when I had no money for food.

I was alone for once since even the regular smokers ate lunch before coming outside.

After what felt like ages of thinking to myself, the metal door of the cafeteria screeched in protest as it opened.

"What are you doing out here?" Nasally monotone. Craig. Jesus, it's like he's following me.

"No money," I say simply, not bothering to look at him.

I hear him take out a pack of cigarettes and strike a lighter. "Can't you ask your friends?" he asked through the cigarette between his lips.

I shook my head. "If you're going to bombard me with questions, I'll just leave."

"You do the same to me," Craig points out.

"Yes, but I'm joking, you, however, are always serious." I stand and start to walk back into the cafeteria. My legs were frozen through my torn jeans, so this task was a bit hard. I felt a hand wrap around my thin wrist and I instantly flinched away, feeling a bit of a sting where his hand had been.

Craig gave me a puzzled look before saying, "That whole thing about secrets yesterday, what did you mean by it?"

I didn't answer. I simply turned away and went into the cafeteria, afraid he would reach to grab me again.

* * *

Apparently Stan, Kyle, and Eric had planned something so I was left to ride the bus alone. It happens quite often since I started turning them down when they invited me to things. I've just started losing interest in things they do.

As people loaded onto the bus, I sat in my usual seat, running my thumb along the cuts under my sleeve. My mind was still sluggish about the whole incident. More accurately, I knew what I did, but I didn't want to believe what I did.

I sighed and tugged on both of my sleeves to keep them down.

The ride home consisted of me trying to convince myself that I was totally fine, that I wasn't going to do it again, that I didn't need help. The scary part is, I had actually managed to convince myself. If I could convince myself that I was fine, even after my recent suicides and even going as far as self harm, I could only imagine what else I could lie about. After all, it's much easier to lie to others than it is to lie to yourself.

* * *

_**A/N: Agh, it's hard to figure out where to end these without dragging the story on or cutting it too short.**_


	3. Death

_**A/N: At this point, you should know that there will almost always be an author's note because I tend to ramble a lot. Skip over this and go straight to the story if you wish. **_

**_Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! In honor of this holiday, I have finished a chapter, and this time, it's longer! I hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving, or just a great day for those of you that may not celebrate it._**

**_Well, it's disclaimer time now._**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, I am simply a fan that has many many ships._**

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, my arms slowly started healing and fading, and I sometimes allowed myself to forget what I did. I couldn't, however, forget any of those images I saw that night. Sure, I'd killed myself, but I'd never seen my body. I usually didn't when I died. I figured it was too tragic for a life so replaceable.

Eventually, our house was completely out of food, which was to be expected of us. We were barely managing to get by on food from our friends at school, anyways. Soon enough, we broke down and decided to risk a beating to steal from our father again who had gone gambling the night before. We hoped he was too drunk to notice his money was missing.

Our parents weren't that abusive to us, really. They hit each other more than they hit us.

I sighed, setting down our father's wallet back down. "Nothing," I whisper to Karen, trying not to wake our sleeping father.

We both slip out of the living room and into mine so we aren't spotted.

"Kenny, we're nearly out of food...You're going to have to start applying for jobs again. Even if you have a bad upbringing, even if you have some sort of reputation, please at least try again," Karen begs, appearing as if she'll cry.

"I was planning to, anyways. They built a convenience store on the edge of town, an Allsup's, I think. They're really desperate to hire, so I already applied for an interview there. Don't worry. We've been through this before, and we still lived." I ruffled her hair and gave her a soft smile. "The interview isn't until a few hours from now, though. I was planning to tell you, but didn't have the right opportunity."

"Come on, then, I'll help you look presentable." She then went to my closet and began sifting through my clothes.

* * *

A couple hours later, I was wearing a clean Terrance and Philip shirt that was a hand-me-down from Kyle, a pair of jeans that Dad never wears anymore and happen to be clean, and my normal boots. For once, my hair had been properly shampooed and combed. Karen also coaxed me into trimming it so that my bangs stayed out of my eyes.

I examined myself in Karen's full-length mirror, and honestly couldn't believe it was me. I typically wore old, worn clothes, and this was quite a drastic change.

After I'd changed, I has instantly pulled on my parka, not wanting Karen to see my wrists.

"You like?" she asked hopefully.

I nodded and kissed her forehead. "Thanks, Karen, I owe you one."

"No, you don't. It's my pleasure." She gave me an innocent smile before lightly placing her small hands on my back and pushing me towards the door, careful not to step on anything.

"The interview isn't for another hour and a half," I protested. It took maybe thirty minutes to get there. What was I going to do for another hour?

"Well then you won't be late. Now, go. Good luck." Karen opened the door and light pushed me out, quickly shutting the door, quietly so as not to wake my parents. I heard the lock click into place shortly after.

Sighing, I stepped off the front porch. I kicked a broken bottle for a few feet until I reached the train tracks.

The train didn't run anymore. I'd gotten ran over as a kid, and the routes changed despite no one remembering that I was killed. Now the train tracks just symbolize the separation between my family and everyone else. Our side is dirt and melting snow; their side is bright green grass with piles of snow. Our side has broken cars and beer bottles; their side has working, practically brand new cars, and clean grounds. Our side had our old, one-story house that was falling apart; their side had two-story houses that had been remodeled and repainted to look just as new as when they were built. Our side contained only us, the white trash; their side had people with normal families, normal lives, and happy children that had never gone a day where they had to fend for theirselves just to get a little meal.

I listened to the soft crunching of snow beneath my feet as I left the residential area, spotting all the little differences that I'd known ever since I was little. I've known for as long as I can remember that I'm different. My whole family is, really. Of course, I'm the only immortal one.

Within fifteen minutes I was nearing the edge of town. As I traveled, I couldn't help but notice the traffic. I assumed tourists were going to Denver. That was usually the only reason we had traffic.

I bit my lip, a dreadful feeling settling over me. I took a deep breath, telling myself that nothing bad would happen. I told myself that I would absolutely not let myself get hit my another goddamn semi-truck. But, of course, I have terrible luck.

I patiently waited on the crosswalk to say I could cross. Once I could, and the sign was already out of sight, it changed. As expected, a semi seemingly comes out of nowhere with a dumbfuck texting and driving, and going over the speed limit on top of all that.

I take a deep breath, staring at it as it advances at such a fast rate that I know I can't avoid it. I prepare for the bone-crushing impact, the sound of most of my bones breaking all at ones, the seemingly slow process of bleeding out as people around me scream and call an ambulance. But it never comes. Instead, I feel an impact on the right side of my body, the side where the crosswalk I had just come from is.

My body hit the sidewalk a few feet away, barely being missed. The air is knocked out of me, but it is still nothing compared to the feeling of what could have happened.

I glance up, blinking a few times at the noirette above me. I don't recognize who it is at first. My mind only registers their jet black hair and pale skin. Then I notice their lightning blue eyes. There's only one person who could have those eyes.

"Craig?" is all I manage to choke out. My voice sounds weak, almost childish, compared to his shouting.

"Dude, are you fucking crazy?" he practically shouts, the monotone almost dissipating from his voice.

Still dazed, I don't answer. Instead, I glance around us. We're the only two in the area. So it was either die or somehow be saved. God only knows how Craig had managed to save me.

"Are you even listening?"

I turn my gaze back to him and shake my head.

He sighs and stands up, offering me a hand.

I take it, forcing myself up.

"That looked like a suicide attempt..." Did I detect...worry?

"The crosswalk malfunctioned," I mumble, my excuse sounding a bit idiotic when said aloud. I thought about it and determined that it really could have been a suicide attempt as much as it could have been a coincidence. I began to wonder if my mind was playing tricks on me, if I really had crossed too early to get hit, knowing what would happen.

"What are you doing so far from your house anyways?" he asks.

"I'm looking for a job," I say, though now my somewhat presentable appearance now looks scuffed and probably a bit bloody in some places since I felt vague stinging in some places on my body.

"At the new convenience store?"

I simply nodded in response, assessing my injuries and condition of my clothing.

"That explains why you're dressed differently today." He paused a moment, examining me. "You're a strange one, McCormick. It's like you're almost disappointed that I saved your ass." I didn't respond, earning a sigh from him. He shakes his head and turns to walk away.

"Craig?" Once again, my voice seems childish.

He turns, one eyebrow raised.

"Thank you...Um, do you mind if I tag along? Karen locked me out of the house and I have nothing to do until my interview time."

He shrugs. "Wouldn't that be a rhetorical question with you? You don't ever leave me alone, even when I ask, so why are you so timid about it now?"

"I dunno. I mean, you did just save my life, so I guess I owe you the favor of not bothering you. If not that then at least another favor." At this point, I was lying through my teeth. I just didn't want to be alone. I knew my life was worthless considering I could just come back after I died. If it weren't for Karen depending on me to get this job, I would have found some other way to die. After all, even I can't cheat death when it's inevitable.

"Fine, you can help me pick up a delivery for Tweek Bros." Tweek Bros. was the local coffee shop that put mysterious ingredients in their coffee. How do I know this? They used to pick up deliveries from the renters that made a meth lab in our garage.

"Better than nothing," I said with a shrug.

He began walking without another word, and I followed, not bothering to continue conversation.

Eventually, we reach a place that's just outside of town with various semi-trucks full of various things. I cringed, noticing the logo on them was the same logo of the trucks that almost always hit me. I either have extremely bad luck or God just wants me to die for whatever reason.

Craig led me to a truck full of cardboard boxes. Not very far from it were some guys using a very poorly constructed pulley system to move seemingly heavy pieces of scrap metal.

"We only need about five, so just grab two, and I'll get the other three," he commands.

"You act like I'm some sort of weakling," I say, crossing my arms.

"You're skin and bones, I'm surprised I didn't break one of your bones while trying to save you. Now suck it up and let me at least try to be nice." He glares at me.

I scoff. "You, Craig Tucker? Nice?"

He flips me off, and picks up a stack of boxes. I follow his lead, picking up the remaining amount needed despite still wanting to prove my strength.

Just as we were leaving, I hear, "Hey, kid, watch out!" but I couldn't react in time. Those guys had dropped something and it fell right on top of me. I heard the loud crack of my ribs, smelled the blood beginning to pool, and felt the breath being knocked out of me.

Craig knelt down beside me, asking if I could hear him or something, I'm not really sure. The pain was overwhelming.

I looked away from Craig and to someone who was calling an ambulance. Useless.

Craig turned my head back to him, tapping my face a few times as if that would prevent me from slowly bleeding out. I knew he was just trying to keep me awake, but my eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and fighting impending death was something even I couldn't do, so I simply waited on death.

A few painfully slow minutes later, the loud blare of an ambulance could be heard, but my vision had already gone black, and my heart soon stopped.

* * *

Coughing, sputtering, numb, I was once again alive and in my bed. It was midnight according to my clock. Damn, I missed the interview.

_What did Karen think when she didn't see me come home?_, I wondered.

I got out of bed, forcing myself to move. I felt heavy, as if someone had placed a two ton weight on me. It was as to be expected, though. I slowly moved to Karen's room, and peeked in. She was asleep, and I sighed in relief. I was glad I wouldn't have to deal with lying to her yet.

I then went back to my room, and opened the small drawer beside my nightstand, pulling out the blade I had stashed from

a few days before.

A twisted grin crossed my face as I brought it to my skin, going over where I had cut before. All the cuts were now gone since I had died, and my body was renewed. Not even scars were left.

The first few cuts weren't felt, but my body soon began getting feeling as I watched more blood form with each cut. After I had feeling, I put it away. Something in the back of my head was telling me that that had somehow helped, but how it helped, I do not know.

I went through the same cleaning process as last time, and then laid back in bed as I had before. The only difference this time is that I didn't sleep. I simply stared at the red, puffy skin on my pale wrist, waiting on morning's first light. Nighttime seemed infinite, but in reality, the sun rose soon, and I had had one of the sleepless nights that I felt I would soon become accustomed to.


	4. More Secrets

**_A/N: This is a kind of sucky _****_chapter, but I needed to update. Since I'm a professional procrastinator, if I didn't update now, I probably would never update. I actually got aro_****_und to this surprisingly early, as well. I wasn't really expecting to update again until around Valentine's Day._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

I was exhausted the next day when Karen forced an explanation from me.  
"They mixed up my interview time, and then mine ran late." It was a stupid lie, but it worked.

"Don't worry me like that again," Karen said with a pout.

"I won't, kiddo. Now, go get dressed before we miss the bus."

She nodded and scampered off.

Once Karen was out of earshot, I sighed in relief. It worked. I would still have to fake a phone call about my application being declined, unless I somehow got lucky, and they called to tell me I miraculously got the job. Doubtful, but one can only hope.  
"You've got five more minutes," I called to Karen as she darted through the room a few minutes later.

"I need help with my hair, Ken," she complained.

I walked into the living room and fell back on to the couch. She sat on the floor in front of me and handed me her hair brush. Back when my mom used to care, she taught me a lot about hair. So, I often did Karen's even though she's fourteen now.

I managed to fit her thick hair into my hand and began brushing the knots and tangles out from bottom to top so it wouldn't make even more of a mess. Once I finished, I quickly braided it, tied it, and ran to the door.

We had two minutes to get to the bus stop in the residential area. I figured I should make a game out of it. "Race you to the bus stop." I grinned mischieviously, throwing my bag over my shoulder and swinging open the door, knowing she'd follow.

As expected, she was soon tailing me and we made it just in time to board the bus. Karen sat up front with her friends while I went to the back with mine.

Per usual, Kyle and Stan sat together, leaving me to sit with Eric. I tugged on my sleeves and plopped down next to him.

"Kenny, can I copy your algebra?" Eric asked, knowing Kyle nor Stan would give in.  
I rolled my eyes. It was a stupid question. I made C's in practically every class. I don't do the work because I see no point. That, and most things taught in school make no sense to me. "Kenny, are you even fucking listening?"

I must've zoned out a bit from lack of sleep because Eric was pissed that I ignored him. "It's a no to both questions," I said.

"Whatever, I don't need you anyways," he mumbled.

Soon enough, we arrived at the high school and everyone piled off the bus.  
I gave Karen a quick hig before she ran off with her friends to do whatever girls her age do. Maybe makeup or something.

As I crossed the overgrown lawn known as our school's courtyard, I felt someone staring. Becoming paranoid, I looked around. Only one person's eyes met mine. They were electric blue, and conveyed a mix of confusion and relief. It was Craig. He was surrounded by his friends, though, and no matter how much he did or did not want to confront me about whatever he was staring at me for, he couldn't break away from them.

"Jesus, what is with Craig?" I mumbled, entering the school to wait for morning classes to start.

* * *

I was the last to leave as usual. Karen had made plans with a friend, so she wasn't with me. She said she was going to the mall or something and would be back that night.

The soft sound my boots made on the tile floor of the school echoed through the halls, and another pair soon joined.

I turned to see Craig behind me, prepared to speak his mind, and that he did. "How the flying fuck are you alive? You died yesterday."

I raised a brow, and feigned confusion. "Really? How could that be so since I'm here now and perfectly alive."

"Black magic? Hell, I dunno, but the fact is is that you died yesterday. You were impaled by scrap metal, and died before the ambulance arrived."

"Are you sure this isn't some morbid dream of yours?" I yawned. After falling asleep in class, I'd gotten about an hour of sleep. That added to my time spent dead, was quite a lot of time I missed.

He shook his head. "Stop lying about this."

"I'm not lying. It's clear I'm not dead." I poked his cheek and grinned. "See? Both of us are alive."

Rage flickered in his eyes and I was suddenly pushed into the lockers. Not hard, but enough to shock me. Pain shot through my wrists, but I ignored it, frozen in place by images running through my mind.

Nine times out of ten, when I'm pinned to a wall, I'm about to get my ass beat by my intoxicated father. I'm not talking about the normal kind where the most that happens is a leather belt to the ass. No. My father is much more harsh when he hits me. In his blind rage, he'll kick and punch wherever he makes contact. He doesn't care about killing me either. My parents aren't exactly conscious of my immortality, they just know I'm the odd child, and use that as an excuse.

It started after my elder brother moved out and practically disappeared from existance. Since I protect Karen, I'm his one and only target when his fights with mom aren't enough. As much as she tries to defend me, mom can never match his strength when he's going all-out on me.

So, naturally, the look on Craig's face and his grip on me what immensely frightening. I knew it was just Craig, though. I'd gotten in fist fights with him before. Just something about being pinned to a wall with a question being repeatedly asked of me made the situation seem so much different. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at Craig, my cerulean eyes meeting his electric blue ones.

"Don't dig too deep or you'll regret it. Secrets are secrets for a reason. I've warned you of this last week," I said, glaring. Then, I pushed him off me and walked away, leaving him to stare at my backside in confusion.

"Maybe you're right, but I won't stop until I have answers." It was quiet, barely audible from my distance, which made me think it wasn't really meant for me to hear.  
On the walk home, our encounters over the past week replayed in my head. Craig hadn't really talked to me since middle school, and now that I saw him at the park that one day, he's been speaking to me a lot more, asking questions. It was strange.  
He said he wanted answers, and I began thinking of how he'd react if he got what he wanted. I'd put up a fight of course. I literally take my secrets to the grave.

But maybe my world is finally opening up. Maybe God was finally giving me a chance at living outside of isolation. I mean, even my own family and so-called best friends don't recall any of my deaths, but suddenly Craig can?

I sighed, my breath swirling into the cold air as I crossed the train tracks. I told myself I should stop thinking about it, but the feeling carried into that night, eating at me.

If it hadn't been for my lack of sleep, I would have probably thought myself to death overnight. So, I fell asleep around ten.

The next day carried on as usual. Boring classes with a lunch break in between. As of late, lunch was quite interesting for me, and that day lived up to the same expectation.

I leaned against the wall at the very back of the school building, staring at the sky, nothing particular in mind since I'd decided that thinking of Craig's words would get me nowhere.

Footsteps crunched on the snow, breaking the peaceful silence. I turned to see who was approaching. Speak of the devil.

He spoke first, "I would say that I came to apologize about yesterday, but I'm not sorry. Why? Because I know you have a deep secret I've gotten involved in, and I still want to know more."

I rolled my eyes. "Wow, thanks."

"I really came to offer you a job."

I raised an eyebrow. "Continue."

"I heard Karen talking to her friends about last night. She said you got a call about being declined a job you applied for, and that you're desperate for money again. So, how would you like to work at Tweak Bros. with me?"

"What's the catch?"

"What? I can't be nice."

I laughed. "Nope. We've already gone over this before."

He rolled his eyes. "Is that a yes or no to my offer? Answer before I change my mind and tell Tweek to find someone else."

"I have no choice, so yes, I'll work at Tweak Bros. When do I start?" I was almost one-hundred percent sure he was setting me up for more answers, but fuck, I needed the money.

"After school. We can walk together." With that said, Craig lit a cigarette and walked away.

* * *

The little bell above the door twinkled, signalling our entrance. Mr. Tweak greeted us with his overly cheery voice as Craig led me behind the counter.

"First off," he reached out and pulled my hood down, "I need to see your face and understand you. Now, I know you have a tongue piercing, but don't worry about taking it out." He tapped his lip where the two piercings lay side by side. "I keep mine in as well. As for your hair, as long as it's out of your face, no one really cares since no health inspectors come by. Today, you'll be observing. No pay. Tomorrow will be your first day of actually working and I'll teach you as you work."

"Right, right. I know the drill. I'm used to the 'Kenny should be seen and not heard' thing," I said.

He raised a brow at me but went to the register anyways, taking orders and brewing coffee. I estimated that he'd worked there for a long time, especially since he was close to Tweek.

The room gradually got hotter as hours ticked by, and I wanted so badly to take my parka off, but I couldn't because I didn't want my wrists to be seen.

"Aren't you hot? Just take off your jacket, dude," Craig said, noticing my discomfort. He shucked his not even an hour after he started working since the heater worked quite well.

I shook my head. "I-I'm fine." _Damn, I stuttered._

He looked suspicious for a moment, but went back to work.

When I thought it would never end, Craig finally said I could go home because Mr. Tweak would be back soon to help close up. It was eight o'clock by then, and I was hot and bored out of my mind.

"See you tomorrow," I said simply before escorting myself home.

Once I arrived, I entered silently only to be greeted by an angry Karen.  
"Where were you?" she asked, glaring.

"Helping out at Tweak Bros. They offered me a job last minute, and I took it," I explained, thankful I didn't have to lie.

She sighed. "I'm just glad you're okay. Mom and Dad are out drinking again so I've been here worried sick."

"Sorry, kid. I'll let you know my work schedule once I find it out. Until then, expect me home around nine or ten."

"Fine, fine. You're nearly seventeen, so I doubt you would've asked my permission to go out anyways. I'm over it." She looked me up and down. "Sleep. Now. Your dark marks under your eyes are darker."

"I was just about to go to bed. I'm exhausted." It was true. Something about sitting in a coffee shop and not being able to drink coffee made me sleepy.

"G'night," Karen said. "I'll be up a while. I've gotta finish a book for English."  
I nodded, mentally eliminating the idea of taking that razorblade out again.

Once I laid down in bed, I fell asleep pretty quickly, only to be woke up at around midnight by my phone buzzing. The caller ID showed that it was Eric. Great.

"Hello?" I answered, reluctantly.

"Kyle just said he saw you at Tweak Bros. today. What the fuck were you doing with those fags there?"

Of course Kyle and Eric were speaking so late at night. Kyle studies into the wee hours of the morning and Eric likes to give him shit as he does so.

"Dude, why call now?" I asked groaning. "My job doesn't even fucking concern you."

"Whatever, dude. I just wanted to remind you that this is the same kid that mysteriously disappeared for a semester in eighth grade. Watch your ass."

"Bye, Eric. Don't call again," I said in a bitter-sweet tone as I hung up, not wanting to hear more of his bullshit.

Though, it did call up a memory. Nobody knew what happened at that time, not even Craig's friends. I don't think anyone even knows now.

Craig Tucker really does have more secrets than I could ever imagine. Then again, I have my fair share of them too.


	5. In too Deep

**A/N: Happy early Valentine's Day to all! I just experienced a break-up, so unfortunately I'm by myself this year. I hope all of you have a great day, regardless of whether or not you have a date.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park.**

* * *

"Kenny. Hey, Kenny. Kennyyyyy. Are you even listening?" Craig snapped his fingers in front of my face, finally getting my attention.

"I'm sorry, what?" I'd zoned out again, lacking sleep once more.

Worry flickered in his eyes, but his face remained stoic as he said, "I asked if you could go with me again to get deliveries. Tourists headed to Denver have already depleted our supply."

It was about a week after I'd started working at Tweak Bros. It was odd transitioning to a life where I had something to do besides school.

"Sure, I guess..." I was hesitant to be alone with Craig after the events of last week. I mean, he saw me die and he remembered. Now he wants me to go back to that damn place? My paranoia told me it was a set-up.

"Tweek and his dad are running the shop, come on." He pulled his hat out from where he'd tucked it into his back pocket. He often did that when it got hot inside.

"Craig, th-that's way too much p-pressure!" Tweek exclaimed from the other side of the counter.

Tweek had always had a long list of issues such as being underweight, having an addiction to almost anything he relatively liked (coffee being a major one), and extreme anxiety. He never really spoke to me much, but I didn't think much of it since he was a nervous wreck just speaking to Craig.

Craig and I exited the coffee shop, and began heading back to where the deliveries had been picked up before.

The feeling of dread set in on the walk there, and got worse once we arrived, but I ignored it, telling myself I absolutely would not die that same way even if those guys are stupid enough to do the same thing a week later.

"This time, we're taking the truck back." He pointed to an old white Ford pick-up that looked like it barely ran. Pieces of paint were chipped off to reveal the frame underneath. A large crack spread across the front window with a few smaller ones stemming from it.

"Jesus, does it even start? That's almost as bad as my dad's old pick-up." I wasn't exaggerating either. The only difference is my dad's had one wheel and no engine because people stole it in the night. Why, I don't know. South Park has always had strange problems with the homeless.

"Of course it runs. We only use it for large deliveries because it doesn't run well, but at least it works. Now, follow my lead. We're gonna fill up the truck bed, and that should be enough to last the tourist boom."

Once again, we began moving stuff to take back to the shop. I kept a close eye on the men hauling scrap metal again. Craig watched me, examining my movements. I tried to ignore it, though I knew he'd ask something of me.

Just as we were finishing, I heard another yell, like the one a week before. Quickly, I dropped the boxes in hand and moved out of the way. It would have been some cool matrix shit if not for me tripping over my shoelace. The sharp, heavy pieces of metal hit the asphalt of the truck yard with a loud noise resembling a gunshot.

Craig rushed over as soon as he could, a look of fear on his face. "Fuck, are you okay?" he asked frantically.

His voice was a bit drowned out from the loud ringing in my ears, but I heard him nonetheless. I nodded in response. "I'll have a terrible headache later and my ears are currently ringing, but I'm fine."

"You're bleeding," he pointed out, staring at a place on my palm where I'd attempted to catch myself.

I shrugged, and looked up at the workers who'd dropped the metal. "Assholes," I mumbled. "Talk about dèjá vû."

"In the truck. Now. I'll be there in a minute," Craig ordered.

I looked at him, puzzled, but obeyed anyways because I didn't want to make the situation worse. After all, I'm the only one who really understands that the extent of the situation is not at all drastic. My life is replaceable, so even if I had died again, I'd be fine, and who knows, maybe Craig would forget and last time was just a fluke.

I hopped into the truck, and Craig followed shortly after. Wordlessly, he started up the vehicle.

"You were expecting that, weren't you?" he asked. It was hard to place the tone in his voice, but it was shaky, like he was somehow afraid of me or possibly enraged. Both were plausible answers.

"Not at all. How could I?" An easy lie. After all, I've kept my secrets my whole life.

"Do you ever stop lying?" He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and I think that if looks could kill, I would've died right there.

I shrugged. "Do you ever stop keeping secrets?"

Craig pulled the truck over, and I raised an eyebrow. "Answer me directly, dammit."

"No. You know what? Fuck this. You have no right at all to know this much. You're in too deep, Craig. Get out of this mess before you get yourself killed or something." My voice had raised a bit from its usual volume, and I scared myself a bit. I'd never really raised my voice at anyone but my father.

"There you go again with your indirect warnings. Just fucking say it, McCormick. We both know you're a dead man walking. What the hell are you?"

I didn't answer. I refused to fight over this. I refused to let Craig in any more. I had let my guard down too much. He was going to find out everything. So, I tripped the lock and got out, walking away as calmly as I could.

"Stop avoiding me and say it," Craig insisted, getting out as well.

"Fine. I don't really know what I am. I've always been different, and I can't die. So just stay out of it because you're going to forget me one day anyways. Are you fucking happy now?" Tears welled in my eyes, I was practically yelling now. At that moment, I wanted to die. Just drop dead where I stood.

Craig simply stared, speechless.

I turned on my heel and began to sprint off, hoping he'd forget, hoping I wouldn't be sent to the loony bin.

He didn't follow, and the time I stopped running, I was at the park again, across town. My muscles ached and my lungs were crying out for air, and tears were running down my cheeks, but I ignored it, moving to sit on a swing.

I wiped the tears from my eyes every once in a while, but otherwise let them flow, knowing no one would see.

In all honesty, I wanted to feel the cold razorblade kiss the skin on my wrist one again, but I didn't have it with me, and I couldn't go home until the time my shift ended. So, I pulled up my sleeves, and began picking at the healing cuts that I'd done over the past few days.

Cutting was slowly becoming a nightly ritual. I knew I'd never have scars, and it wasn't like I'd lose my life from going to deep. Well, I would, but not permanantly.

"Kenny..."

At the sound of a voice, I yanked my sleeve down, and jerked my head in the direction of it. Craig had followed after all, just not very closely.

His bright eyes looked sad, on the verge of tears, but as always, his face was unreadable. "Roll up your sleeves," he said simply.

I shook my head. "This doesn't concern you. Fuck off, Tucker."

"No. Roll them up or I will force you to."

I crossed my arms and glared. "I said, fuck. Off."

Craig quickly sprung off his feet, and towards me. Just before our bodies made contact, I swung the swing to the side, causing him to miss and hit the ground. He didn't stay down long at all, and came at me again. This time, I jumped off the swing.

"Get back here, McCormick!" he yelled.

I've had fights with him before, the last one during our freshman year over something stupid I can't recall by now, so I knew we were evenly matched. Due to this, we spent a good five minutes or so going in circles before he finally pinned me to the ground, obviously frustrated.

I shook as Craig stared at me. He then moved to roll up my sleeves, revealing cuts that went in straight, even lines up to my elbow.

He inhaled sharply before asking softly, "Why?"

"Why not?" I answered back.

"You're depressed." It wasn't even a question, just a flat-out statement. "And you're in too deep."

My vision began to cloud, and before I knew it, I was crying again. "G-Get off me...please," my voice sounded small, weak, and shaky. I was scared, and I couldn't quite place why.

Craig released my arms, and I quickly pulled my sleeves back down, but he remained on top of me. His eyes locked to mine, and from what little I could see through the blur of my tears, he looked almost ready to cry. He sighed. "It's just as I thought..."

"W-What do you mean...?"

"Always wearing long sleeves, getting nervous when asked to take them off, losing sleep, zoning out, it all adds up, Kenny. I saw the signs that no one else did, I just couldn't believe that Kenny McCormick, the kid who's always treated himself like a God, became depressed."

I shifted my gaze away from him and covered my face, wishing I would have died so it could all end for just a little while.

We sat in silence until Craig finally stood. He spoke once more, "I'm not letting you live like this. Push me away all you want but you will not become like me. Get up, and follow me."

Become like him? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Regardless of my endless questions, and things going through my mind at a mile a minute, I did as told.

He led me down the sidewalk. I assumed he had dropped off everything before running after me. I don't see why, though, since his shift didn't end until 7, and it was only 5.

We walked in silence through the familiar residential area that I'd grown to know because of my so-called friends. Eventually, we arrived at our destination; Craig's house.

As soon as we walked in, a high pitched squeal could be heard from upstairs.

"Ruby must be watching My Little Pony or something," Craig explained. He motioned for me to follow him, and he led me to his room, which was the basement. Odd.

"I like the privacy," Craig said, seeing my look of confusion.

The room was fairly simple; blue walls, gray carpet, a TV with an Xbox set up, a bed with a Red Racer blanket, a cage with his guinea pig, and a book shelf filled with various DVDs and a few books.

After we'd both settled, his cold eyes met mine. "You're staying the night, and I will get information from you or die trying."

"In that case, I'll see you in Hell."

Anger flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with his usual lack of emotion. "So, are you, like, immortal?"

"That's the easiest way to put it, yes." I figured I should tell him what he already knew about.

"What's death like?"

"I'm not allowed to say."

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

Craig gestured to my arm, and I shrugged, earning a sigh from him. "This is going to be a long night, isn't it?"

"Yep, what else could you expect."

After a few hours of conversation like this, Craig finally stood, walked across the room, and punched a wall.

"Uh...I guess I should be glad that wasn't my face," I said. I knew Craig had always had trouble expressing emotions, and whatnot, but damn, punching a wall seemed a bit too extreme for the situation.

"You're really fucking difficult, you know that, McCormick?"

"As are you, Tucker," I retorted.

He sighed and plopped face-first onto the bed.

We sat in silence for a few moments before I finally decided to pester him. "Craiiiiiig, I'm hungryyyyyyyy," I whined like a child.

"Then go raid the fridge or something. It's not like I give a fuck," he said into the bed.

All houses in South Park are built relatively the same, so it wasn't hard to locate the kitchen. When I was looking through the fridge, I heard a blood-curdling scream from behind me.

Craig soon entered. "Ruby, shut the fuck up," he said bluntly.

"What's Kenny doing here? I thought we weren't supposed to associate with trash," Ruby said, not caring that I was there.

If she were anyone but a small child, I would have punched her. Ruby, to say the least, has always been a little bitch. She used to bully Karen until Karen started taking up after me and gave her a black eye and busted lip.

Craig reacted much calmer than I would have. He simply flipped her off and shoved her out of the kitchen. Her protests were futile because her socked feet only slid her further on the tile floor.

"Sorry about that." Despite his monotone, it sounded like an actual, sincere apology.

"Nothing I don't hear from my 'friends' on a daily basis," I say, shrugging. I opened up a cabinet, found a box of cheez-its, and began to make my way out of the kitchen with it. Craig didn't try to stop me, so I assumed this was yet another thing he didn't give a fuck about.

"Your friends are dicks," he said. "Especially Cartman."

"Eric is just an attention whore. If you don't pay attention to his insults, he stops. That's why Kyle is his center of attention," I explained.

"I don't care."

"You never do."

"Not true," he said defensively.

"How so?" I ask, turning to raise an eyebrow at him before descending the stairs to his room.

"I care about you..." It was quiet, almost like it was something meant for his ears only.

"Bullshit. No one cares," I said, my voice equally as quiet.

I plopped down in a bean bag chair in front of the TV with a sigh. He sat on the edge of the bed and turned the TV on, which was coincidentally on old reruns of Red Racer.

We didn't really talk for a few hours. It was like we knew the other was there, but not at the same time. I don't really think that makes an ounce of sense, though.

Around midnight, I looked up at him. He was quietly texting on his phone.

"Can I borrow that?" I asked.

He gave me a confused look. As if to say, "Why the hell would you ask that?"

"Karen's probably worried sick," I said.

Wordlessly, he tossed it over to me. I nodded in thanks and dialed my number. Karen found it and picked it up by the third ring.

"Hello? Who is this?" she asked, worry evident in her voice.

"It's Kenny. I'm-"

She cut me off by speaking so fast about how worried she was that I couldn't keep up.

"Karen, hush. I'm okay. I'm at Craig's. He dragged me back to his house after work."

"Any specific reason why?" she asked.

"Studying," I lied.

"Alright, alright. You better be home tomorrow morning."

I was surprised by how easily she believed the lie. "I will. You should go to sleep. I love you."

"Yeah, I love you too." Then, she hung up.

I tossed the phone back to Craig and said, "It is late, we should sleep."

"Yeah. This was pretty pointless to drag you here, huh?"

I shrugged. "I just believe you're approaching it all wrong. Like I said, you have to reveal your own secrets before others give you theirs. I think it's time for you to own up. Not tonight because I'm to tired to process, but I will eventually ask about it."

Craig groaned. "You're more difficult than Tweek and Clyde combined."

I chuckled softly. "So what are the sleeping arrangements?"

"I'll make a place on the floor. You can take the bed."

"And that there is a dude move."

"A what?"

"Sleeping in separate places when the bed is clearly big enough," I explained.

"I'm a restless sleeper, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to wake up with a swift kick to the face," he said.

"Fair enough."

Not long after I'd gotten in bed, I fell asleep.

Soft speaking woke me from my slumber in the middle of the night. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The TV was showing a movie from the Narnia series, I think, and Craig was in the bean bag chair watching it. I glanced at the clock. 5:43 A.M. was what the red letters displayed.

"Craig? Why aren't you asleep?" I asked softly, my voice scratchy.

"Insomnia," he answered simply.

"Oh. Come here then." I wasn't sure how to respond since I hadn't really made the connection to his health at the time, I just wanted to sleep and the bed was kind of lonely.

Craig gave me an odd look, but came over to me anyways.

"Lay down." I scooted over a little and opened up the blankets.

He did so, and mumbled, "Dude, this is so gay." His back was facing me, which was a bit disappointing. His eyes were stunning and I wanted to see them before I fell back asleep.

I put my arm around him and pulled him closer. He was thin, but not an unhealthy thin. He was the kind of thin that naturally skinny people are. "Embrace it," I said back, burying my face in his back.

I'd woken up an hour later, and to my surprise, he was asleep. This time, he was facing me with his arm around me. I smiled softly, got a bit closer, and fell back asleep. Somehow, I felt accomplished. Like, for once, I had done something right, something that could actually make a difference. It was an odd feeling.

* * *

**A/N: I apologize** **for the odd place to end it. I** **just didn't want to drag on too much.**


	6. Weekend Occurrences

**_I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck around this far, and reviewed, followed, favorited, etc._**_ **T**__**his**_**_ chapter came out earlier and longer than intended, but I like how it turned out, and I hope you guys do too._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

The following morning, I awoke to a shirtless Craig with his back faced to me. I sleepily examined him, my brain only slightly registering everything. His skin was still the same pallid color on his back. He had a couple of moles between his shoulder blades and on his lower back. As with any teenager, a few acne scars were on his shoulders.

He must have felt me staring because after slipping on a shirt, he turns to me. "Good morning, Sunshine."

"Mornin'," I mumbled back. My eyes shifted to the alarm clock. Its red numbers displayed that it was 11:47. Damn, I must have been tired. "I should be getting home soon, or Dad will be pissed."

"Give me your phone number before you leave," Craig said. It wasn't a question at all, it was a demand, to which I had no choice in unless I had an excuse.

"What makes you believe I have a phone?" I ask.

"Oh, please. Don't give me that. When we were kids you used to have a phone just like the rest of us."

"Fine, you got me there. But why should I give you my number?"

"Because I want to make sure you're okay?" he suggested.

I laughed at that, though I didn't quite know why. It just seemed funny somehow, as if I wasn't ever really going to be "okay." This, of course, earned a confused look from Craig which I shrugged off. I rattled off my number to him, and he quickly put it in his phone.

"I'll send you a text to make sure it's the right number."

"My phone is at home. I'll check it when I get there."

"I'll walk you home," Craig said, once again a demand, not an offer.

"Why? I live across town."

"Like that matters."

Great. I was stuck with him. He was so damn persistent about making sure I'm safe. Why? He's hardly ever even glanced at me before.

We exited the house, a winter breeze meeting us. I couldn't wait for Spring because maybe then my balls wouldn't freeze off just from walking outside. I kind of need those.

It was a quiet walk to my house, as to be expected. Once we arrived, Craig stopped at the tracks and pulled out a cigarette.

"I'll be here until I'm sure you're at least somewhat safe," he said, answering my unspoken question. This just meant that he was going to stay until he was finished smoking.

When I turned and walked away, I could still hear his lighter sparking as he attempted to get a flame from it. I stopped momentarily on the porch steps, taking a deep breath. It's fine, I told myself. Dad's probably drunken and passed out. I wasn't too worried about my mom. She was usually passive towards us. It was Dad that brought out her scary side.

I quietly entered, seeing that my theory was correct. In fact, both my parents were snoring away in their bedroom.

I went to my room and flopped down on the bed. Home, shit, home, I thought, burying my face into my pillow.

My door slowly creaked open and someone quietly entered, shutting the door behind them. "How was Craig's house?" the soft voice of Karen asked.

I turned over in bed to look at her. "It was fine, I guess. He's a bit of an asshole though."

"His sister is even worse," Karen said.

"Yeah, I know. She's a snooty bitch, and I almost punched her."

"You should have." She chuckled. Admittably, it was an amusing thought.

* * *

Days passed sluggishly. Craig would occasionally wave to me in the halls or invite me to his lunch table, but I always turned him down. Something that I found odd was the fact that he sent good morning and good night texts. Nothing else, just those. I never responded either, so my messages on my phone were flooded with the repetition.

A few weeks after the whole ordeal of Craig finding out some major shit, he called me. I answered with an unsure "Hello?" because I wasn't quite sure why he's randomly call.

"Hey, uh, Token's having a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come."

I thought it over. Free booze, big house, possibly food, hot babes. It seemed like a fairly good deal. "Yeah, sure. I'll need a ride though, otherwise I'll have to walk back home at five in the morning."

"So I'm DD or what?"

"Not necessarily. I just need someone to at least take me home."

"That won't be a problem. If anything, I can talk Wendy into taking us when she drags Stan home. Wendy doesn't drink," Craig explained.

"Sounds good to me."

"Cool, I'll pick you up at seven." With that, he hung up.

I checked the time and noticed I had three hours until he picked me up. That meant three hours to shower in the possibly freezing cold water, find clothes that didn't look their age, and make/pick up dinner for Karen to eat while I would be gone.

I got up off my bed and rummaged through my closet. I found a pair of black skinny jeans that Stan had given me after he was out of his goth phase along with a solid gray shirt that somehow had no stains or holes. I then picked out a random pair of boxers, and went to shower.

As expected the water was warm for only a few minutes then it was ice cold. Fearing hypothermia, I got out, dried off, and got dressed. Borrowing Karen's blow dryer, I managed to dry and tame my hair.

Next on the to-do list was dinner. I decided on picking it up from somewhere since I had enough time and money. I made my way to City Wok then back home in time to meet face to face with my father.

"Where were you?" he slurred out.

"Getting dinner," I answered simply.

He studied me a moment, then stepped out of the doorway to let me in the house. I sighed in relief, thanking God that he wasn't pissed at the moment.

As expected, he didn't stay home long and was soon out to go do whatever the hell he was going to do. Mom was still home, but she didn't really care about what I did with my free time, and she took good enough care of Karen for me to trust her for the night.

Before I knew it, Craig arrived in the beat up truck from before. After telling Karen where I was going, I left with him.

The drive to Token's place was filled with the soft hum of an Alice in Chains song. It was nice to know I wasn't the only one that liked songs not from this century.

Once we pulled in, it was obvious that everyone from school was there. No one would miss one of Token's parties. They were almost as extravagant as Eric's birthday parties. We went our separate ways once in the house.

My first task: find the vodka. I could mix it with something to dull the taste, but if there was nothing to mix it with, drinking it on its own was a manageable task. Sure enough, tons of alcohol was set up in the kitchen; beer of multiple brands, wine of multiple flavors, margaritas, fruity cocktails, you name it. Damn, Token knew how to provide.

I suppose my dad has rubbed off on me a bit. I love to drink while at parties, but I always make sure to have someone I can trust take me home. I'm not an idiot. I refuse to let myself act like my father while drunk though. I refuse to be uncontrollably violent, no matter what the reason.

After the alcohol hit my system, I was feeling even more confident than usual, so confident that I had the nerve to hit on Bebe Stevens.

Bebe is, to put it lightly, one of the hottest girls in South Park. We had a fling once, but then Wendy found out and went all "you're better than him" on her, so, no more fling. That didn't stop either of us from occasional one-night stands though.

Long story short, we both took a few shots then started intensely making out. We only broke apart when she ran off to go vomit, not even making it to the bathroom. Such a bummer that she's a lightweight.

Next was a not-so-fortunate encounter. Like I said, every teen in South Park was there, so it was only natural for Eric to be there.

"Dude, Kenny, you missed it. Stan got so fucking drunk that he threw up all over Wendy while they were sucking face. Absolutely hilarious," he told me. I could smell the liquor on his breath.

"Yeah, so funny, Eric," I said sarcastically.

"I know, right?"

He was so busy laughing that he didn't notice me sneaking off. Thank God I didn't have to deal with that asshole for long. I went upstairs, my stomach churning. I figured I should be somewhat close to the nearest bathroom in case my body rejected all the alcohol I drank.

I walked in on a few people fucking while I was wandering, nothing new. I could smell pot from the end of the hall, and I guess that's what triggered my stomach to empty its contents. I never could stand that smell.

I quickly sprinted to the bathroom and threw up, having a headache soon after.

"Great, the night isn't even over and I already feel hungover," I mumbled to myself.

After kneeling over the toilet a few moments, I heard shuffling, signaling I wasn't the only one in the bathroom. Still wobbly, I cautiously stood and pulled back the shower curtain to reveal a balled up Craig.

"Dude, what are you doing in here?" I asked.

"It was a mistake coming to this party...I thought that bringing you would help, but fuck..." he mumbled.

I sighed and sat behind him in the bottom of the bathtub, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I don't care what's going on right now. Just fill me in when you calm down."

He simply nodded, and it was then that I noticed he was crying.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, an occasional choked noise escaping from him as he silently wept, before he finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry about all this. Usually it's Clyde who finds me first," Craig said.

"No need to be sorry. Besides, if anyone should be sorry, it should be me for drinking myself sick and making it smell odd in here."

"I suppose I should explain myself, huh?" He slouched down and leaned back so he could look up at me. I didn't move my arms from him and he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, that would help with my confusion."

"I have this whole thing called social anxiety and I'm fine in regular situations, but parties like this just...set me off. Big groups of people, tense situations, stuff like that is what I don't like."

Craig was actually being open with me. He wasn't hiding behind his usual stoic face. His mask had broken. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was blotchy. God only knows how long he's been crying.

"Then why did you come?" I asked.

"I honestly don't know anymore," he said with a sigh. He shut his eyes, seemingly comfortable in my lap. "But now I'm just sleepy and suffering from a serious headache."

"You and me both," I said, smiling softly.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face before going blank again.

"I don't think Wendy can be our ride home, though. Stan threw up all over her, and now she's probably consoling Bebe who can't even handle a glass of wine, let alone three shots," I said. "So...what now?"

He sighed yet again. "I'll drive. You can stay the night at my house."

"Won't your family, like, assume something if you bring me, a notorious whore, home after going to a party?" I ask. "Not to mention, last time I was there, you're sister flat-out called me trash."

"Fuck it. Let them assume. They don't have the guts to say anything anyways." Craig gestured for me to let go, and I did so, not wanting to push my boundaries.

We both stood and slowly descended the stairs. At the bottom of the staircase, he grabbed onto my hand, as if he were clinging for dear life. I didn't shake him off, and instead led him outside and to the car.

"Well, I didn't die. Accomplishment, I guess," he mumbled. It was probably supposed to be something for his ears only, but I just had to comment.

"I think I'm the only one here who should worry about dying. I mean, it happens almost every day." I paused, thinking over what I said. "That sounded a lot less morbid in my head..."

Craig let out a small sound that was like a soft laugh cut short. Who would've known I could make him laugh with my unintentionally morbid things. "How are your arms, by the way?" he asks, starting the truck.

"They're all healed," I answered simply.

"Nothing new?"

"Well..."

"Show me," Craig demanded.

I didn't want to be forced, so I did as told, and rolled up my sleeves. There were no signs of the cuts from before, but now new ones replaced them, though they weren't as numerous.

"I'll clean them when we get to my house. What happened to the other cuts?" He sounded so calm, as if he wasn't just crying less than an hour ago.

"When I revive, my body is renewed. No cuts, no scars, only birthmarks, freckles, et cetera."

"How did you die?"

God, so many questions that I really didn't want to answer. I hesitated this time. "I cut too deep," I said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. I avoided his gaze, but I could feel his eyes locked on me.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help..." was all Craig said before pulling out of the driveway.

I checked the dashboard clock. Somehow, time had passed incredibly quickly and it was already nearly three in the morning.

Our drive back was silent, mostly because both of us were exhausted for different reasons.

The first thing Craig did when we got to his house was to treat the fresh cuts with hydrogen peroxide.

I hissed and squirmed because of the stinging pain it caused, but he held me in place.

He was watching the cuts and I couldn't figure out why until I saw the bubbles. "How old are these?" he asked.

"Uhh, two days, I think."

"You really should take better care of these, especially in the place you live," he scolded.

"Fine, whatever, I will. I still need clothes for the night though. I'm about to fall asleep right here."

He nodded and went back to his room to rummage through his dresser. I followed, an old Red Racer shirt with black sweats tossed at me.

I quickly snuck off to the bathroom. I changed as fast as I could, not wanting to look at myself in the mirror. I know I'd changed somehow in the past few months. I only looked half-alive; my eyes had dark circles, they seemed empty, my skin was paler, I just looked plain sickly. I knew exactly what caused me to be this way, but I didn't want to admit it.

Craig's clothes were a bit big on me, as to be expected since he was a few inches taller and a healthy weight.

Once changed, I went back to the room to find Craig already passed out. I chuckled softly and turned out the lights, climbing into bed with him.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke with a pounding headache. Craig was still fast asleep on the other side of the bed. Such a shame he didn't want to cuddle again.

I eased my way out of the bed, and quickly got dressed, managing to make it out of the house within ten minutes, ignoring my killer hangover. If he really did get worried, which I highly doubted he would, then he could just call me.

At home, it was oddly quiet. Karen wasn't even home. Worry and suspicion crossed over me as I tried to figure out where everyone was.

Soon, the front door opened. "Karen?" I called tentatively.

"There you are, you little shit." Not Karen, Dad, and angry at that. He stalked into the room.

I prepared myself for the very worst. I hadn't seen his rage in the past few months, and now I knew I couldn't get away unscathed, not after he'd let me go for so long.

"Where the fuck were you?"

"School, and school relating things," I answered. He didn't have to know about the party.

"Don't lie to me." He examined my face carefully, then stepped closer and punched me, knocking me to the ground. "You've been in my alcohol. I know that look." He landed a swift kick to my ribs, and walked away saying, "Learn your lesson, boy."

Once he was out of earshot, I sighed in relief. It had gone much better than I expected. Dad was very protective of his alcohol. I stood, trying to ignore the pain in my head and abdomen. I made it to my room, and collapsed on the bed.

I must've fallen asleep there, a natural thing for me to do when hungover because I awoke to the vibration of my phone.

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

"Where are you?" The voice was monotone, obviously Craig.

"Home," I answered simply, rubbing my eyes. I glanced at the clock. It displayed that it was nearly three in the afternoon. "Did you just wake up?" I ask curiously. Surely he wouldn't wait so long just to ask one question.

"Sort of. I spent like ten minutes looking for you, then I texted you, and you didn't respond, so I called. Are you okay?"

Did he really care? Oh well, he asked the question so I should answer. "Aside from a terrible hangover, fresh black eye, and bruised ribs, I'm great. I just took a nap." I didn't bother asking why he slept so late. He always looked like he could use more sleep.

"What happened?" I detected genuine concern in his voice.

"Dad thought I'd been drinking his beer, and got all pissy. No big deal."

"Promise you're okay?"

"Do you mean physically or mentally?"

"Both, I guess...You know, aside from the black eye and stuff."

"I'm not going to promise something I can't exactly be sure of. I think we both know that I'm quite unstable," I said.

"Not as bad as I used to be." Yet another side comment. He seemed to be full of those. He paused a moment, then said, "I have to go do shit for my mom. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye," I said before hanging up.

* * *

That night was the same as any other; the silver blade and my pale wrist illuminated by the moonlight coming in through the window, my wrist bleeding.

The only thing that made a significant difference after was the thought of Craig being disappointed. I mean, I was already disappointed in myself, no big deal, but since when did I really care about what Craig thought? I was sure that to anyone I would be just a failure for being only a few days clean, and I fell asleep thinking I was just that.


	7. Revelation

_**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park**_

* * *

School was inevitable and boring, as always. The Monday following the party, there was tons of gossip. It was quite annoying. I was glad when lunch finally rolled around because at least then the noise could be drowned out by Eric spinning one of his tales.

"No, really. There was, like, this kid that set his fart on fire and died because of it," he said.

"Whatever, fatass, that's impossible," the redhead next to me said. Kyle is a boy of logic; science, math, and the only exception being books.

I couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. I was quite the idiot as a child. After seeing Asses of Fire, a Terrance and Phillip movie, we had the argument of the possibility of setting a fart on fire. I was the one to prove that it was quite possible in a bet with Eric for a hundred dollars. With my luck, though, my whole body caught on fire, causing a horrific chain of events. Eric had beat me with a stick, trying to put the fire out, though I suspected it was partly just for fun. I'd ended up in the road, trying to put the fire out when an ambulance arrived, but with the stupid drivers of South Park, a salt truck ran into it, shoving it away. The salt in the truck was dumped on me from the jarring impact. Yes, it put the fire out, but damn that hurt. I was taken to the hospital, where my internal organs were practically ripped apart and my heart was replaced with a fucking baked potato. That was when I finally died and got sent to Hell. Again.

I didn't realize how strange my reaction was and found that everyone was staring at me. I shrugged, and that seemed to be a good enough answer because they continued with the conversation.

My stomach growled and I sighed. I hadn't gotten much from my job at Tweak Bros. given the fact that I hadn't been there long, and I was trying to preserve the food at home as well as my money. I wondered what Craig would say if he knew of this. Wait...why am I thinking of Craig? Jesus, what's going on with me lately? You know, aside from the self destructive tendencies.

Speaking of him, I noticed him approaching our table. Oh, he is not going to do this, is he?

"Wanna come sit with us?" He gestured to his table at the corner of the cafeteria. He is going to do this.

"Are the others fine with it?" I asked.

"They can suck it up if they aren't," he answered monotonously.

That was a good enough answer for me. I stood, trying to ignore the stares I got as I walked to Craig's table with him. Everyone sitting there greeted me. It was his usual gang of Tweek, Token, and Clyde.

"'Sup, Ken?" Clyde greeted. Beside him, Tweek gave a timid wave, and Token simply nodded.

"Nothing much," I said with a shrug, taking a seat beside Craig.

"D-Do you n-not have a lunch?" Tweek asked. I shook my head, and he slid a brown paper bag across the table. "M-Mom always packs too much food."

I opened up the bag to reveal half a sandwich and a fruit cup with a small plastic spoon. "Thanks," I say, offering a smile.

"No p-problem, dude." He shakily smiled back.

It didn't take me long at all to eat. Usually I savor my food, but fuck, I was starving.

"Dude, have you even been eating?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "I'd rather have Karen get food first."

He sighed, and looked as if he was going to say something more, but didn't. His eyes conveyed the concern that his stoic face wouldn't.

I couldn't help but wonder if he really did care. There was still a nagging voice that told me he wouldn't care for a reject like me, no one would, but sometimes I wasn't so sure of whether it was right or not.

"So guys, I took Bebe to Taco Bell last night, and she got so pissed. She was like 'Clyde, we can't do this every fucking date. I get it, you love Taco Bell, but this is a bit much,'" Clyde said, making his voice higher pitched to imitate his girlfriend.

"Careful with how you treat her. She's like a perfect ten, maybe a nine-point-five at worst," Token said. Token wasn't the best with relationships, though. He and this girl Nicole have been on-and-off since about fourth grade. So, he didn't have much room to talk. Then again, neither do I considering how many one-night stands I've had.

"No, dude, she would never break up with me. For starters, my dad owns the shoe store, and she loves the discount. Also, I'm the totally modest hottie who plays football." Clyde smirked.

The conversation continued like this for a while, and I noticed Craig occasionally sneaking glances at me. It was odd, but it was the first time in forever that I'd genuinely had fun at lunch. I never wanted it to end, but as always, the bell rang to call us back to class.

Everyone at the table simultaneously groaned, expressing our mutual hate for class.

Once Craig stood, he almost went against the flow of the crowd trying to get outside the cafeteria, but Token stopped him, and turned him around. I guess it was a usual thing for Craig to try to slip away after lunch.

I began to wonder what it was like to have friends who still cared. Craig's friends seemed to be so close, unlike my group. It was odd to be with them, but not in a bad way. Shaking the thoughts from my mind with a sigh, I made my way to fifth period.

* * *

That night, Karen and I were in my room, huddled together. Our parents were fighting over who snorted the last of the cocaine, and it was starting to get violent. Both of us would flinch every time a beer bottle shattered on something. After a while, it was clear this was one of their fights that called for major makeup sex. In other words, it wouldn't break up for a few hours.

I debated with myself quite a bit before finally settling on calling Craig.

"Hello?" he answered, monotonous as always.

Another beer bottle shattered, and I cringed before answering. "Mom and Dad are fighting. Can Karen and I come over...?" I figured I was just being hopeful but Craig was my only hope at the moment.

He was silent a while, and I began to worry that he was just thinking of how to turn me down. He then said, "Sure, yeah. I mean, Ruby might be a bitch to Karen but she can get over it."

"Thank you. I'll be over as soon as I can." I hung up, and notified Karen of what we would be doing.

"But how will we get out? This is the second floor and scaling the house unscathed is going to be kind of hard."

I thought over it a moment. "You're right. Going out the window isn't the smartest idea. We'll have better luck sneaking by them. I'll go first, and you follow. They'll see me first, allowing you to slip by if they start shit."

She looked as if she was going to protest, but then thought better of it since she knows how stubborn I can get when it comes to her safety.

We both got ready then slipped out the bedroom door. It only took mere seconds for my father to notice me. He slurred something about him blaming me then proceeded to throw a beer bottle that missed by a longshot. I stuck out my tongue, and quickly escorted Karen out the door with me. Honestly, his lack of aim was hilarious.

The screaming didn't cease until after we'd crossed the train tracks and gotten a few houses over. I knew that it was all falling on deaf ears though. Everyone in town knew what happened in our home, they just refused to do anything about it because their "hands were tied". In other words, "you're not our kids so why should we care?" Quite frankly, I believe they're selfish bastards.

Thankfully, it was a clear night, no rain, only slush scattered on the ground from melting snow, so we made it to Craig's easily.

Not long after I'd knocked, the door was opened and I was met with Craig who seemed to be relieved. About what? He allowed us in, and we both thanked him.

"Why don't you go and see if Ruby wants to watch TV with you or something?" I suggested to Karen.

She sighed. "Fine, but I can't promise she won't have a black eye later."

Craig and I chuckled. "I'll take the blame," he said.

With that, Karen went up the stairs to find Ruby's room, and Craig grabbed my hand to lead me into the basement where his bedroom was. We made ourselves comfortable once inside.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course. He threw a beer bottle but missed by a mile," I answered.

"No, I mean, are you okay?" He said it slower this time.

"Oh," I said, realizing he was talking more about my mental health that just my physical health. "I guess." I shrugged, and rolled up my sleeves. I knew he would ask me to eventually so I might as well get it over with.

He inhaled sharply, and I saw something in his eyes. I couldn't quite tell what it was though. "What happened?" he asked.

"I dunno. I just tend to feel numb, and it helps me feel something. I hate feeling numb, and this is nothing compared to the pain I feel when I die only to find out no one remembers." The words just fell from my mouth, and I couldn't quite comprehend why I was saying these things to him. A voice in my head kept telling me to shut up, that no one cares, especially not him.

"Self harm is such a nasty addiction," he said with a sigh. "To me, it's on the same level as cocaine or heroine addiction."

"How do you know so much about it though?" I asked out of sheer curiosity.

"Unlike you, I keep my scars, so brace yourself," Craig said before sliding off his jacket so I could see the scars lining his arms all the way up to his shoulder where they hid under his shirt sleeve. Some were deeper, some were whiter, some showed evidence of stitches, but they were all self-inflicted scars nonetheless.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I wouldn't allow them to fall. I couldn't believe he hid so much pain. How long did this go on? When did this stop, if he ever did stop? Questions ran through my head, and were soon answered with what he said next.

"Back in middle school, around sixth grade, I realized I had depression. It kept getting worse and worse. I was harming myself in seventh grade. By eighth grade, I had tried killing myself three times, and got pulled out of school to be sent to a mental institution." He stopped, noticing that I was about to cry. "But that's all in the past. I stopped self harming by freshman year. I'm still in therapy, but I don't go as frequently as I used to. I guess you could say I recovered."

I laid back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. "Wow," I mumbled. "This is a lot to handle for one night. Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I can see my old self in you, and I don't want you to suffer like that. No one deserves to suffer like that."

Before I knew it, I had my arms wrapped tightly around him in a hug. Tentatively, he returned the gesture. We sat in silence for a little while before I finally let go.

"I'm sorry I'm such a pain in the ass. There's a reason I'm the outsider of my friend group," I said.

"You're not a pain, and you're always welcome in my group. Tweek might take a while to warm up to you, but after you work at the shop with him a few times, it'll be fine. Token and Clyde are pretty cool, so they won't care. Just treat Token like he isn't the rich bastard he is, and don't make Clyde cry, even though he's a crybaby." He gave me a small smile, which I returned.

"Thank you, Craig, really." I paused a moment, then said, "I want to stop this habit, I really do, but it feels like I can't right now."

"Then I'll help," he declared. "We can beat an addiction together. I've been meaning to stop smoking for a while now."

I gave him another hug, brief this time, and pulled back with a grin on my face. "This really has been a big night, but I'm glad it happened." For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't feel so worthless or annoying.

"As am I. Now, you should really get some sleep. It's getting late and we have school." He sounded like a commanding mother, and I tried not to laugh imagining mother Craig.

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'll probably drink some tea and try to sleep, but I can't promise I will. Insomnia is a bitch."

"Don't they have pills for that?"

He nodded. "They help a little but they're not enough to make me sleep. I've tried every kind there is, I just can't sleep at all, and no one knows why. That's the only thing I haven't gotten over since middle school, but my insomnia is another story for another day."

Of course, he ended up falling asleep before me. He always seemed to do that when I was over. He also seemed to always drape an arm around me in a lazy attempt to cuddled.

I wondered when the last time he slept was. A few days, maybe? He slept the night of the party, so it couldn't have been that long. I fell asleep wondering, but I was happy, and it was so unexplainable, but I loved it.

* * *

**_A/N: I'm really trying to keep the chapters from being the same. It could just be me being critical of my writing again, but it feels like a lot of the chapters are the same, or end up being really clichè. This is my first multi-chapter story that I plan on finishing, so I hope it's not too bad._**


	8. School Days

**_A/N: Surprise, I updated fast this time. I'm on spring break, and unfortunately it's ending soon, so my updates will probably go back to being less frequent._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

I awoke to the sound of a blaring alarm that went off multiple times in a row before the person next to me finally rolled out of bed with a groan.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," I said, having woken up the first time. I was used to waking Karen up and having the responsibility of getting both of us to school in the morning, so I didn't sleep in past the first buzz of an alarm.

He didn't respond and instead sleepily stumbled across the room to his closet. He grabbed some clothes, mumbled something about a shower and that I could borrow some of his clothes, then walked out.

I went over to the closet and looked through to see if I could find anything to fit me. He was significantly taller, maybe around five-foot ten, and I had absolutely no body fat. I managed to find a Black Veil Brides t-shirt, and some jeans that looked like they would fit. Honestly, I don't think anyone saw it coming when Craig got the shirt a couple years back. At the time, he had braces to fix his crooked teeth, and he looked like a total dork. It didn't fit him at all.

I chuckled at the memory as I pulled the clothes on, slipped on my parka and boots, then went upstairs to check on Karen. She was up and already fighting with Ruby. It was something about Ruby claiming Karen stole something.

"Ruby, shut the fuck up! Your squeaky ass voice is annoying me," Craig called from the bathroom. The taps turned off and he came out a few minutes later, fully clothed and hair brushed.

"But...Craig!" Ruby made a futile attempt to defend herself and gave up once she realized she was outnumbered. She sighed and said, "I'm leaving early. I can't stand to be around this trash any longer." She wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned, only to be spun back around and met with Karen's fist.

"You bitch!" Ruby huffed, and turned to stomp off, knowing she couldn't fight back.

The three of us laughed. Once we had had our moment, Craig spoke.

"Tweek texted me. He said he packed you a lunch. At first he freaked out about you eating something you're allergic to and dying, but I assured him that you would be fine."

"Well that's one problem solved. Now Karen and I just need our backpacks from the house."

"No problem. I can drive you there, and then to school. We've got plenty of time."

And with that, we all piled into his truck, and drove to the other side of the town. Craig stopped at the tracks since the truck had a loud motor and we feared waking up our parents. Within what felt like seconds, Karen and I were sprinting back to the truck, backpacks in tow.

"Dude, what's the rush?"

"Dad is pissed again. I dunno why. Just drive," I said quickly. Thankfully, he didn't protest, and we drove straight to school.

* * *

Tweek slid a brown paper bag with my name messily scrawled on one side. "H-Here's - ngh - the lunch I p-packed you," he said, offering me a small smile.

I returned the smile. "Thank you. You really didn't have to do this, though." Kind gestures were not a thing I was used to, especially from people I hardly talk to.

"N-No, it's no problem," he insisted.

I opened up the bag to find a lettuce and tomato sandwich, one of those miniature bags of potato chips, and a juice box. It was simple, but nice. I thanked Tweek once more and began eating.

"Slow down, dude, you're gonna choke," Craig warned.

"I think I've only seen Clyde eat that fast, and that's only if he's eating Taco Bell or something," Token said, laughing.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. I didn't realize I was eating so fast. I slowed down a bit.

Yet again, the fun was ended by a bell to send us to class. Before I could leave the cafeteria, Craig stopped me.

"You wanna come over tonight?" he asked.

It caught me by surprise. Usually I was only over at his house for a specific reason, not just because I wanted to hang out. "Yeah, sure," I answered.

"Cool." He gives a brief yet genuine smile and then walks to class.

Fifth period was, to say the least, eventful. Cartman sat behind me, and he kept pestering me about why the hell I sat with Craig for two days in a row.

"Kenny, are you just a fag now? Is that it? I totally saw it coming."

I tried to ignore him and pay attention to the lecture. I tapped my pencil as the urge to murder him increased.

Eventually, he started poking me in the side. That was the last straw. "Shut the fuck up, fatass, or I swear to fucking God I will kick your ass," I angrily whispered.

"One, I'm not fat; two, learn your place; and three, you know you can't take me in a fight."

I'd had enough of him. He was so dead after class. I silently began plotting my revenge. It had been a few days since I'd last cut, and I needed to blow off some steam anyways.

"Aye, fag. Answer me."

"I. Am not. A fag. Stop that."

"Whatever, Kenny."

He stopped after that, but I was still angry. I was sick of him. I had been sick of him for eight years now. He's always been an asshole, and he always will be.

After class, I caught up to him in the halls. "Hey, Eric!" I called. He turned, and made contact with my fist.

"I'm not a fag, you fucker," I said glaring.

He spent a few seconds dazed as he rubbed his cheek where I was sure he would have a bruise. Once he realized I wasn't kidding about fighting him, he charged at me. He landed a hit that felt more like a steel baseball bat to the face.

I returned his punch with a kick that knocked him off his feet. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

We went at it like this for a while before a teacher finally broke us up, followed by Principle Victoria. "My office. Now!" she demanded.

So, Eric and I were forced to sit in her office, faces evidently bleeding, as she gave us our punishment. We were both suspended for three days.

"You, young man, could have gotten in serious trouble for starting this. You could get reported for assault if he so wished," Principal Victoria said to me. "Honestly, you're such a good boy. Why would you do this?" Well, I was good compared to Eric. He was in her office every other week. I shrugged my shoulders, and she sighed. "Alright, you're dismissed."

As we were walking to sixth period, Eric turned to me and said, "Don't worry, I won't sue you or anything. Being poor is already enough punishment for you."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't respond, simply parting ways with him to get to sixth period.

* * *

"What the fuck, Kenny? Why would you do that?" It was after school, and Craig had finally got a chance to question me as we were headed to his truck.

"He kept calling me a fag and pestering me, and it pissed me off," I said simply. "Besides, I needed to let out some emotions in a method other than self harm since we made a pact to quit each of our addictions."

He sighed, and got into the truck, starting it. "You still got hurt, though."

I got into the passenger seat, and flipped the visor down, opening the mirror hidden in it. Now I could finally get a good look at the damage done to my face. I had a black eye and busted lip. At some point, he had kicked me, leaving a fairly large bruise on my side. My knuckles were bruised as well, as to be expected.

"Sorry if I worried you." I was beginning to realize that Craig did care, and it was such a surreal feeling to have someone other than Karen acknowledge and care about my worthless existence.

"It's fine. I'm just glad you weren't hurt too badly. The nurse patched you up anyways, right?" I nodded. "Good."

First, Craig dropped me off at my house to grab clothes. When I got back, he questioned me even more about my wellbeing, wanting to know if my dad had been there to try anything.

It didn't take long at all to reach his house after that. Once inside, we grabbed a snack and went straight to his room.

We spent about an hour being responsible teenagers and did our homework before we both said fuck it, and started playing video games.

I eventually had to go shower, something I hadn't done in a few days. The water at my house was always cold, so it was hard to get showers without getting sick. I enjoy the feeling of hot water since it truly was a luxury to me.

When I got back, he was watching Red Racer in its original Japanese version with subtitles.

"You're such a dork," I said as I walked down the stairs.

"No, I just know how to appreciate good TV shows."

"Dude, this show is like ten years old."

"So? It's still badass."

I chuckle, taking a seat next to him.

At some point, I had dozed off. I awoke with a groan to Craig shaking my shoulders.

"Kenny, wakey, wakey," he tried.

I protest, my words coming out incoherent even to me.

He sighed and I heard his movement before I felt him lift me up. "Jesus, you weigh nothing. I've got to get you to eat more," he mumbled with a sigh.

I was set down on a soft surface, presumably the bed, and the smell of fresh linens filled my senses as the blanket was pulled up.

There was more movement, then a sigh of content. An arm was put around me and something softly touched my forehead. "Good night," Craig mumbled.

Just before I went back to sleep, I realized something; he had kissed my forehead, and voluntarily cuddled. It seemed weird, but I couldn't dwell on it long before my thoughts lost all meaning and I began dreaming.

* * *

**_A/N: Kind of a short chapter, but I ended it fluffily to make up for that. Also, the chapter title is lame because I couldn't think of anything._**


	9. Craig

_**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park.**_

* * *

The next morning, Craig's alarm was as loud as the morning before, awaking me.

I opened my eyes to see heathered gray fabric, and the scent of body wash. When I tried to move, I was trapped by Craig's arms around me. I managed to get my arm free to shake him awake.

He groaned and turned off his alarm then sat up sleepily. "How the hell to do you wake up so easily?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

I shrugged my shoulders. "What time did you fall asleep?"

He glanced at the clock, then answered, "An hour ago."

"Jesus Christ," I mumble, getting out of bed.

* * *

On the way to school, we pass Tweak Bros., and I realize something.

"Hey, Craig?"

"Hm?"

"What ever happened to working at Tweak Bros.?"

"Well, shitty hours is what happened. And they still don't have an official work schedule for you. Speaking of, you have a shift with Tweek today. I was told to let you know this morning. He said it was something about his parents going on a trip unexpectedly, so he needed someone to fill their place, and you need the money. He brought you lunch again, by the way."

"Why does he bring me lunch? He barely knows me." It was weird. Then again, the past few weeks have been weird.

"He has a big heart, despite all his fears."

"Yeah, I can see that. I just, I don't know. Everyone seems a little too accepting of me," I said, referring to me just being allowed to suddenly join his friend group and have no one give a fuck.

"I think you have just been hanging around the wrong people for two long," he said as we pulled into the student parking lot.

* * *

After school, Craig drove me to the coffee shop. As we neared the place, I began to get a bit nervous. What if I had forgotten everything? How well will the shift with Tweek go? What if I fuck up?

Craig seemed to notice, but he didn't ask. There was no time since we were already pulling into the parking lot.

I thanked him for driving me before heading in.

"Hey, K-Kenny," Tweek greeted with a smile.

It wasn't a very busy day since it was Wednesday and most people had gone to church. I didn't fuck up any of the few orders I did need to take care of, which was great.

When there were no customers, there was a silence between Tweek and me, aside from his occasional sound he made when he had a muscle spasm. At one point, he finally spoke. "H-How do you feel about - ngh - C-Craig?"

"Why do you ask?" It seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Well, C-Craig isn't the type of person to let p-people in - ngh - easily. He...builds the w-walls, and they're practically impenitrable. You're talking to him only b-because - ngh - he wants to talk to you. Obviously he has his own reasons that may be more than for f-friendship. So, I'll ask again, though it's not really my - ngh - business, and you don't have to answer. How do you feel about Craig?"

I thought for a moment. "He's a great friend. I mean, I've got a lot of shit going on right now that I'd rather not talk about, and he knows this simply because he was a witness to it all. Despite all his monotony, he shows he cares in both big and small ways." I smiled softly to myself at the thought.

"Ah, I s-see." He got an odd look on his face, one I couldn't quite place right away.

_Does he think I'm in love with Craig or something? I didn't mean to sound like that. Fuck. I've already had enough fag comments for a lifetime_, I thought nervously.

He must have noticed something was off because he said, "Don't fret. I won't - ngh - tell anyone what you s-said. I was s-simply curious." Was I really that readable?

He didn't say anything else after that, and my shift was soon over. As I left, I was told I would get my paycheck next week. It seemed like that would be forever from then.

"Is there any way I could work extra shifts or something? I could really use the money," I asked Tweek.

"Yeah, of c-course. With my parents - ngh - gone, I need all the help I can g-get."

"Great. Could you find out what days, and get back to me on that?"

He nodded, and we exchanged numbers in case we didn't get any other chance to speak.

On the walk home, I got a text from Craig.

_You can come over whenever you want. I have something for you for the next time you come over. And before you ask, no, it is nothing of the sexual sort._

_Weird_, I thought, texting him back.

_Can't you just like bring it to school or something and give it to me?_

_Nope. This is an absolutely top secret gift that is for your eyes only, and it shall be given in the privacy of my bedroom._

_Yet again I state, Craig Tucker, you are a dork._

_Well then I accept my dorkiness._

Somehow, I had managed to text and walk, and not get hit by any cars. It was a shock, considering my luck. So, it was a safe trip home.

Everyone in the house was asleep when I got there, even Karen. It was barely eight o'clock, and even I was dead tired. Well, I had been at work.

Just before I drifted off to sleep that night, Craig texted me again.

_Good night. I hope you're okay._

It was short, but it meant so much.

* * *

_Do you need a ride to school?_

This was the first text I saw when I woke up that morning.

_Nah, I can take the bus. Eric will probably continue to be an even bigger asshole than usual if we're together too much._

_Fuck him. Not literally, but fuck him. Who cares what he thinks? I certainly don't._

_Yes, but you are Craig zero-fucks-given Tucker._

_Still, I think your old friend group is toxic. It's best to let them go even if Eric is going to be butthurt that you chose my fabulous ass over his fat one._

_Dear God, you did not just say that._

_But I did. So do you want a ride to school or not? I'll even take Karen._

_Fine. We'll be ready soon. Come inside of you get here before I'm ready._

And that he did. My guess was that he had left as soon as we finished texting. He was there just after I had gotten dressed, but still needed my boots. Karen was struggling to detangle her hair yet again, so he sat with me on the couch as I brushed it out.

"Have you tried putting it in a bun or something when you sleep?"

"It's too thick, and the hair ties snap."

"We could always cut it again. It'll grow back if you don't like it short," I offered. In all honesty, we both needed a haircut.

"Yeah, I'll probably cut it short again," she agreed.

I turned to Craig who was quietly sleeping beside me. I nudge him after I finish with Karen's hair. "Wakey, wakey," I said softly.

He opens his eyes, and sighs. "Sorry, didn't sleep well last night." He yawns and stretches when he stands. "You two ready?"

We both nod, and he leads us out the door. While he's driving, I notice him fidgeting.

"You okay?" I ask cautiously.

Craig nods. "I haven't had a cigarette in a few days, and the symptoms of withdrawal are finally settling in."

"Smoking isn't something you can quit cold turkey. You have to ease off. Smoke less a day or something."

"But that doesn't seem fair to you," he said, his eyes flickering to me for a brief moment.

I look at Karen in the rear view mirror. She seems confused, but doesn't say anything.

"Don't worry about it. At least quit healthily."

"Fine..." he muttered.

* * *

My phone buzzed in my pocket, unheard due to the group discussion in the class. As always, it was Craig. He was one of the few people that had my number.

_You wanna come over after school?_

_Can't. I got a text from Tweek this morning, in all caps, saying that he needs my help at the shop for the next few weeks while his parents are gone. I offered to help and work extra hours last night._

_Damn. Okay. Have fun. I'll probably stop by or something. Working with Tweek is kinda awkward because he doesn't speak much._

_Yeah, I've noticed. Why couldn't my oh have asked me this at lunch by the way?_

_Because this is more fun._

_How is risking your phone fun?_

_Dunno, just is._

Just then, the teacher scolded me for having my phone out. Thankfully, she didn't take up phones like the other teachers. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and tried to pay attention once again.

* * *

The next two weeks slipped by quickly. Each day I worked, Craig would come check in, a talk to us. Eventually, Tweek and I began talking without him being there to prompt us. It was nice, relaxing even, to have something to do with my life for once.

Tweek's parents were soon back, and I had earned quite a bit of money from working so much.

With nothing to do, I was back to sitting in my room, staring blankly at the ceiling, and contemplating death. I had my blade nearby. It would be so easy. I almost reached for it, when Craig texted me.

_You working tonight?_

_Nope. Tweek's parents are back home._

_Cool. I still have that gift for you._

_Oh yeah, the thing that is apparently so great that no one else can see._

_Yep. Do you wanna come over tonight so I can give it to you?_

_Might as well. I have nothing better to do. I'll be over after I pack._

_K. Come right in when you get here. No need to knock since my parents aren't home to answer and Ruby and I never answer it._

I was over at his house within the hour, and did as instructed. I went straight to his bedroom, knocking on the door before I entered just in case. It would certainly be awkward if I caught him fapping. Or would it? A blush crept up my cheeks as I thought of it; his moans breaking his usual monotone, his perfect body shaking with pleasure. I quickly shook the thoughts away, glancing down to make sure I didn't just give myself a boner, and entered upon his okay.

"Hey," Craig greeted. He then noticed how flustered I had made myself. "Did you run here or something?"

I shook my head. "No, it's just hot when I have to keep my parka on all the time," I lied, taking my parka off and tossing it to the floor.

I sat down next to him on the bed and he stood. "I'll get the gift. Stay here." He returned moments later with a plastic bag in his hand. "Sorry about the shitty presentation. Hopefully you like the gift a little better than that," he said, chuckling.

I pulled out a pack of pens, a pack of mechanical pencils, and a pack of markers. The last thing in the bag was a notebook. It was plain and black, aside from the cover, which read, "**WRECK THIS JOURNAL**".

I turned to Craig, an eyebrow arched. "This all seems so expensive. Why?"

"Well, the pens and pencils are for the journal. You can use the markers for it, too, but I mainly got them so you could draw on yourself whenever you feel like cutting. The journal is a distraction, something you can take emotions out on," he explained.

"I- um- this is all so much, I just-"

He stopped me with a hug, a soft smile on his face when he pulled back. I really liked his smile. I also really liked whe he hugged me, and I could smell his cologne. In fact, I really liked everything about him. Sure, he's usually monotonous and unemotional, but I've seen past that now, and Craig is so amazingly wonderful. My cheeks once again heated up and turned red.

"Just hush and accept it."

I chuckled. "Thank you, Craig." I made a mental note to pay him back. He was trying to quit smoking, and he couldn't do it all at once. He needed something to help him, and a vape was perfect. With my minimum wage salary, I doubted I could afford one right away, but I would find a way to pay him back.

We ended up passing the day by watching Red Racer together. By the time we stopped, it was already far too late for me to go back home, so I ended up staying over yet again. The next morning, I went home as usual, coming back to an oddly peaceful house yet again.

I spent that day texting Craig. He has to work, but during his free time, he would respond. He never ceased to make me smile, even when I felt worthless.

At one point, though, he hasn't responded for about an hour. I figured they were busy, but another voice in my head told me I annoyed him somehow. I shook it off, but the temptation of my blade was still strong, and I'm weak. I tried the advice Craig had given me, but nothing helped and I caved.

I went from two weeks clean to zero days clean so quickly, and I felt like a failure.

I texted Craig, worried he'd hate me for some reason. He never seemed to be mad when I relapsed, just worried and sad, and I felt so guilty for making him feel that way.

_Craig, I'm so sorry. I relapsed. Nothing was working. I'm a failure. I'm weak. I'm worthless._

His response was quick, to my relief.

_Breathe. I know you're freaking out right now, but it's okay. Just breathe. You made it a long time, and I'm proud of you. Just because you relapsed doesn't mean you have failed. I still believe in you. I still believe you deserve happiness. You aren't weak. You aren't worthless. You aren't a failure._

I didn't respond, and just kept reading over the text. Craig finally sent a second text after five minutes.

_Kenny?_

_Thank you. Again, I'm sorry._

_Don't apologize. It's okay._

_If you say so..._

He continued to calm me down, and promised not to leave like that again, and he'd tell me when a customer came. He explained that he was busy, and then Tweek had him locate some stupid shit in the back that was practically nonexistent.

I was relieved that he wasn't annoyed by me, and that he wasn't mad that I relapsed. I was beginning to believe that he really did care. I mean, who else would spend over twenty dollars on someone to help them stop harming themself if they didn't care?

I laid on my bed, thinking of nothing but Craig, and how I had underestimated him so much. Something was odd, though. I always thought of him. I thought of his lightning blue eyes staring intensely into my cerulean ones just before he leaned in to kiss me. I thought of how warm he felt, and how good he smelled. I thought of how wonderful his smile and his laugh were. I thought of him and me shirtless in his bed as he counted the freckles that scattered across my pale skin, and traced shapes that left a tingling sensation behind.

Oh God, I think I love Craig.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry about all the jumps in recent chapters. I don't know if it really bothers anyone, since they go together fairly clean (at least I think so) and it isn't one major scene jumping into the middle of another major scene._**

**_I know I said I would probably be updating slower, but I ended up having more time on my hands than I thought I would, so I got this published fairly quickly. This is, unfortunately, the last chapter before spring break ends._**


	10. Prom Season

_**A/N: Yay, double digits! This chapter is a milestone in the plot, so prepare yourself.**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

Life was certainly a roller coaster in the weeks that passed. During this time, I had tried to convince myself that I didn't love Craig. Then I began to think of how he wouldn't even love me back even if I loved him. These thoughts would eat away at me, and I would relapse, making me sink into a pit of self pity soon after. Despite this, it seemed as if I were getting better. Maybe it was just because I usually went crying to Craig about my feelings rather than hiding them. It was a step, even if it was a baby one.

At some point, I had decided to pay Craig back for what he gave me, and a vape seemed like the perfect idea. Of course, I couldn't afford a new one, which is why I searched eBay. I found one that was surprisingly cheap, and the seller had a good rating. So, I crossed my fingers and hoped to God it wasn't a scam.

It was shipped from somewhere inside the state, and arrived a few days later. To my relief, it was in almost brand new condition.

I decided to text Craig and arrange a day to give it to him. Can I come over after school?

Sure. You're always welcome at my house.

Well, that was easy. I didn't really know what else I had expected. Maybe a "I have to work" or something that was possibly just a lie to get away from me.

Either way, it was settled, so I went home with Craig after school. On the ride to his house, he would glance at me every few moments, but wouldn't say anything. I wondered what he was thinking.

"What are you smiling about?" he finally asked.

"You'll see."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you'll see later."

He sighed. "Yes, I know that." He muttered under his breath, "You and your indirect answers."

Once we were behind the closed door of his bedroom, he turned to me. "Okay, out with it. What is it that I'll see?"

I set my backpack down and fished around in it before pulling out a small black case. I handed it to him.

He examined it, a puzzled look on his face. He then opened it up to reveal the dark blue vape along with the e-juice that goes with it. He glanced between me and the item in his hands, silent a moment. I began to think that maybe it was a bad idea, that maybe he didn't like it, but he finally spoke up. "I- uh- you really didn't have to pay me back or anything. This is just- wow. I-"

I intertwined my fingers with the braided yellow pieces hanging from his hat, pulling him closer and meeting our lips. I don't know what came over me, I just figured it was the best way to make him shut up and stop stumbling over his own words. The kiss was brief, no longer than a couple seconds. "Just hush and accept it," I said, mimicking his words. He stared at me, now speechless, and it was then that I realized what I had done. I quickly pulled away. "Fuck, I- I'm so sorry." I turn and run as fast as my legs will carry me, not turning back even when he called after me.

_I fucked up. He's going to think I'm trying to play him. He's going to think I'm an idiot. He's going to hate me_, I thought. I fought back tears as I ran home, wanting the blade to comfort me yet again.

* * *

It was during the wee hours of the morning when my phone went off, quite loudly might I add, waking me up. I checked it, squinting at the bright screen, to see a text from Craig.

_You up?_

_I am now. What's up?_

_Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. I'll let you go back to sleep._

_No, it's fine. Why are you up at 3 in the morning on a school night?_

_Can't sleep, as always. And I wanted to talk to you._

That last sentence nearly made my heart stop. We hadn't talked since I had kissed him, and I hated myself for doing it. A few days had passed since then. He was probably going to call me out, say how idiotic I was. Despite my thoughts, I managed to keep my cool. I decided it was best to talk in person.

_I'll be there in like ten minutes._

_Dude you'll get mugged or something._

_I'll be fine. Trust me._

And with that, I was out the door and headed to Craig's house. When I arrived, he let me in, and we quietly went to his bedroom.

He sat me down on the bed, then sat next to me. He then took a deep breath, as if he needed courage to say whatever he was going to.

"Look, I'm not very good at expressing myself. I think that's obvious. And I know that some boy confessing his love for you certainly will not make everything all better. You're still going to suffer, you're still going to be depressed. Recovery is a long process. I really want to be at least a little light in the dark tunnel of your life, there to guide you, help you. What I'm saying is, I love you Kenny McCormick. I don't know when I started feeling like this. It was after you kissed me that I realized how hard I had fallen for you." He sighed after speaking, like it was a huge weight off his chest.

Now was my turn to be speechless. I simply stared, not knowing what to say.

"Kenny?" I hadn't noticed how long the silence hung over us until he finally spoke up.

"I love you, too. I would never have expected you to say this and I really don't know if I've ever been happier or more surprised," I said.

His eyes stared into mine. It was almost as if they could see every emotion reflected in them. Then, he leaned in, and before I knew it, we were kissing again. His lips were so soft, and now sweet tasting from the vape. I didn't want the moment to ever end, but it did, as with all good things.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" he asked.

"Of course," I said, smiling. My smile suddenly dropped when I realized something. "I just...um, I relapsed again..."

"When?"

"The day I kissed you. I freaked out, and my mind got the best of me."

He sighed. "I'm going to have to throw out your blades. No matter how much you think you need them or want to hold onto them, I'm taking them because you don't need them and it won't do you any good to hold onto them. If you get new blades, I'll throw those out too. I'll continue to throw out your blades until you have none left."

The thought of not being able to go back to the sensation of cutting at any time was scary. I knew I would miss the cool metal against my pale wrists and the sight of the blood and skin that puffed around the cut. I always did. Despite this, I knew it was best for me if I just agreed. "Fine, but expect me to annoy you more often."

He chuckled. "Fine by me. You could never annoy me."

We stayed up a few hours, talking and laughing. Craig fell asleep at nearly 5 A.M. I wasn't far behind.

The next morning, we ignored the alarm and slept in. We both needed more sleep, and skipping school wasn't an odd occurrence in South Park. As with any school, many people skipped. No one really cared in our little mountain town.

I wasn't actually awake until around ten that morning, and my stomach was growling. The logical decision would be to go get food, but yet again, Craig had his arms wrapped around me. I stayed there for a while, but realized he was never going to wake up before my stomach practically ate itself. I managed to detangle myself and slip out of the bed. When I was halfway across the room, I heard him softly say my name. I turned to see that he was still asleep, just dreaming about me for some reason, and sighed in relief.

I froze when I reached the living room. Thomas and Laura Tucker were seated on the couch, watching TV. I quickly bolted back to Craig's bedroom, hoping to God that they hadn't seen me. After a few minutes, I figured it was safe to say that they hadn't even noticed my presence.

I played video games while I waited for Craig to wake up. He wasn't up until just after two. I didn't comment on it, though. I knew he needed as much sleep as he could get.

"Your parents were in the living room last time I checked. I'm starving, but I don't want to confront them," I said once he was awake enough to process what I was saying.

He yawned before he spoke up. "They know I skip school when I need more sleep, so it's fine if I go out. I don't think they'll really care that you're here."

So, I ended up tagging along to go get food. We made sandwiches then went back to his room.

The day passed lazily. We played video games and watched TV, holding hands when we could. It was strange how it felt as if we had been dating for so long, even though it hadn't even been a day.

I ended up staying another night, going to sleep with a smile on my face as Craig kissed me good night. Thankfully, he slept peacefully, and we were at school the next day.

Prom posters had been hung in various places around the school, and I could barely turn a corner without seeing the brightly colored posters. Naturally, prom was that day's lunch topic.

"I was planning on going with Bebe. Last year, she was too caught up in school to even consider it, but this year, she's been looking forward to it," Clyde said.

"I already asked Nichole this morning. She's dragging me with her to go shopping for our outfits after school," Token said. It was quite obvious that he didn't want to go shopping with his girlfriend.

"You guys are - ngh - lucky," Tweek stuttered. Poor guy. Most girls found him to be some psychopath, so he never really has dated anyone.

"What about you two? Found a special guy, Craig?" Clyde asked.

"Yep, and he's sitting right next to me." Craig smiled softly, turning to me.

My face turned red, and I tightened my parka strings to hide it. I wasn't even going to question the fact that Craig was already out to his friends. They seem like an accepting group that always stuck together, so it wasn't unusual for them to know Craig was gay.

Everyone at the table began to stare, wide-eyed.

"I didn't know you swung that way, Kenny," Token commented.

"Honestly, neither did I," I muffled out.

This earned a chuckle from the group. "Well, either way, it's pretty cool that you two are together," Clyde said. The others nodded in agreement.

That certainly went better than I thought it would, I thought, sighing in relief. Sure, I was embarrassed, but it could have gone so much worse.

Craig typed something into his phone, and mine buzzed in my pocket moments later. I opened it up to see a text from him.

_So we are going to prom, right? If you can't afford a tux, I can help pay._

I guessed that he didn't want to embarrass me any further by bringing up my family's money issues.

_Of course. I have a tux somewhere in my closet that I wore to a wedding a few years back. It may not fit, and it's a weird powder blue, though._

_Then I'll help you pick one out. We can go shopping together. I'm sure we'll have better luck than Nichole and Token._

The bell to end lunch soon rang, and it was back to the day dragging on as I endured classes.

The following weekend, Craig and I chipped in our money from working at Tweak Bros. to go tux shopping. I saved most of my money, a habit I picked up from my poverty stricken home. Craig just didn't spend his money on much. So, we had enough money to buy our outfits.

We both had black suits. The only difference was the tie color. Mine was a sky blue one, while his was navy blue. It was all over with within a few hours, much to my relief.

As we left the store, Craig let out a soft laugh as he read a text. I raised my eyebrow and he explained. "Token and Nichole have been to, like, five different stores, and haven't bought anything. Ah, the trouble of shopping with a picky girl."

I laughed as well. "I do believe we both got lucky. I'm sure Clyde will have the same trouble as Token."

Craig nodded in agreement as we hopped into his truck, hanging the tuxes in the back. "I'll take the tuxes with me. It'll be much more convenient to get ready at my house."

"Fine by me. If I took it home, it would start smelling like weed in no time."

The drive back to my house was quiet. Neither of us wanted me to go back there, but it had to happen. Otherwise, I'd have more trouble with Dad.

I managed to slip past my fighting parents, and into Karen's room to console her.

That night, I could hardly sleep because of my anticipation for prom. I never went to school dances because I couldn't afford the dress clothes for them. This was the perfect opportunity, and I could hardly wait to slow dance with Craig. Of course, my mind was occupied with the bad scenarios as well, but I tried not to overthink, fearing another relapse. Luckily, I managed to fall asleep eventually.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt. I tried to end it in a good place without going too far._**


	11. The Calm Before the Storm

**_A/N: I'm planning to wrap this story up within the next few chapters. Don't fret, though. There will be a short epilogue after the final chapter. I will also be writing another fic after this. However, it won't be South Park._**

**_This chapter is short simply because it is a filler to build up for the next few chapters. While it isn't absolutely necessary for the plot, it still helps keep pace so the story doesn't move too quickly._**

**_On a side note, I had a fuckton of trouble uploading this because I made the mistake of writing while on the school's wifi. Long story short, it deleted like 1/3 of what I had and I had to rewrite the ending after I was ready to publish it before._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

I came out to Karen a week after Craig and I started dating. She was fine with it, and completely supported us. The only problem left was hiding from our parents.

I stayed at Craig's more often, and made sure to check on Karen when I could.

About a week prior to prom, Craig and I were together, cuddling in his bed. It was peaceful. He held me, making me feel safe. My eyes were beginning to droop as it got later.

Just before I fell asleep, I felt Craig shift, and then a warm hand on my bare back. He was tracing shapes and constellations into the freckles that covered my skin. I couldn't help but giggle. "That tickles," I said, though I didn't really want him to stop. It was relaxing, in a way.

He chuckled, continuing to slowly move his finger along the pale skin. "I love your freckles. I mean, I love everything about you, but your freckles are so fascinating for some reason."

"Hm...I guess. I've had them all my life. They've showed up for various reasons. Be it a sunburn or I was born with them, they have a way of just appearing on my body."

Craig hummed softly. It was soft and deep, a contrast to his usual monotone. It eventually lulled me to sleep.

The next morning, Craig was the first awake. I was suspicious at first, afraid he didn't sleep, but there was no evidence that he was up all night. Usually, there was some sort of sign when he didn't sleep. "Good morning, sunshine," he greeted.

"Mornin'," I mumbled sleepily, a yawn following. "What time is it?"

"Eleven," he answered.

"So you just let me sleep all day?"

"No, I'm the one who sleeps all day. Sleeping until eleven is perfectly normal."

"Well, whatever." I sit up, stretching. "I'm hungry."

"Well I can't cook for shit, so how about we go get coffee or something," Craig suggests.

"I'm broke after the tux shopping. My paychecks from the rest of last month were blown on groceries."

"Then I'll pay. Simple as that."

I ended up borrowing Craig's old clothes which involved an Iron Maiden t-shirt and black skinny jeans. Then, we walked to Tweak Bros., giggling and holding hands like most couples would. Since South Park is relatively neutral about everything, not many people even spared us a glance.

The bell on the shop door jingled, signaling our entry. Since I'm indecisive, I let Craig order for me while I chose where to sit. He was soon back with our order, and I was immediately glad I trusted him to do the ordering. He got iced mocha coffee for each of us and a giant cinnamon roll that definitely needed to be split between to two of us.

"Jesus Christ. It's like diabetes in a meal," I said.

"You've gained a little weight, but you're still underweight. I could count all your ribs if I wanted. So, I'm going to fatten you up. Even if you gain weight before prom, you're tux will still fit," he explained.

"Fair enough." I shrug and begin eating. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I had taken my first bit and tasted the cinnamon and icing melt together on my tongue.

We spent a while chatting in the small cafè, enjoying each other's company. We talked about simple things, happy things, and things we loved, not caring about the burning daylight.

Around two that afternoon, we left to go to his house again, hand in hand.

This was often how we spent our days; doing simple things that, to anyone else, would probably mean nothing. We didn't have to kiss to show our affection towards each other. Our little talks and I love you's were enough.

Our nights were usually spent at his house. I had to go home every few days to avoid getting a beating from my father, but I spent as much time with him as I could. The nights that I was with him were just as simple as daytime. We would play video games and watch cheesy movies on Netflix. When time started creeping towards the late hours, we would talk about anything and everything.

One night, Craig asked, "What's death like?" He sounded a bit timid, knowing it was a sensitive subject.

"I still can't believe that you're even able to remember."

"Neither can I..."

"Death is like...Well, it's just complicated." I paused a moment, thinking of how I should word it. "It's scary to wonder if you'll go to Heaven or Hell. Most people do end up in Heaven, with the exception of terrorists, murders, those who have committed suicide, and people who were overall just terrible. Heaven is like living as royalty. Hell is like being a prisoner. Depending on behavior, Satan favors you. Due to my frequent visitation, he and I get along swimmingly. Even Damien, his son that stayed here for like a week in fourth grade, isn't as bad as he seems."

I looked up at Craig. He seemed to be deeply in thought over what I was saying. "Do you want me to continue?" He nodded.

"The scariest part is purgatory. You're in a whole other plane of existence, neither Heaven nor Hell, dead, but still among the living. Only a select few people like psychics and mediums know of your existence. Every one else will just suddenly feel cold or maybe hear a soft whisper in their ear. You're just a wandering spirit, cold and in pain. When you're in that state, you appear just as you did when you died. It's quite terrifying to see people in such a mangled state."

I stopped and asked, "Does that answer anything?"

"Yeah. Could you describe one more thing, though?"

"Might as well. What is it?"

"How badly does it hurt?"

"Well, have you ever broken a bone?" I asked, getting a nod in response. "Getting hit by a truck is much like that pain, but excruciating and all over your body. Another sort of common thing is asphyxiation. First you start getting a bit dizzy, then a burning feeling begins to spread through your chest, and black invades your vision until finally, you're dead." I thought a moment about another death I could describe. "Bleeding out is sort of like a death that stops time. It seems like ages before you die, but most of the time, it doesn't take long. There's always the pain that comes with the wound, but then you start to feel cold and sleepy."

Craig shivered at the thought of the things I was describing. I took that as a good sign to stop. "I think that's enough for tonight," I said. "I don't want you having an existential crisis or something over this."

He nodded, pulling me closer. He kissed my forehead. "Goodnight, Angel," he said softly.

"Night," I said back.

I feared I had said too much, and tempted fate to get back at me for saying too much, but then figured that was ridiculous.

That was really the only weird night. It was a night that we had thought a little too much and took a morbid turn in conversation.

Everything was going great, better than I could have ever expected. But, of course, it was too perfect to be true.


	12. Outed

_**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park.**_

* * *

Before I had known it, prom night arrived.

I was in the passenger seat of Craig's truck, adjusting my hair for just about the thousandth time. It was either that or nervously drumming my fingers on my thighs. My mind was racing with thoughts of what the dance would be like.

Every once in a while, Craig would glance at me and smile. I supposed he either didn't realize he was smiling or he just didn't think I was noticing.

"Why do you keep doing that?" I asked.

"Doing what?"

"Smiling at me."

He chuckled, yet another small smile crossing his features. "I dunno. You just look stunning. I mean, you're always attractive no matter what, but damn."

I let out a soft laugh. "It feels awkward to wear a tux. It's been, like, seven years since I last wore one."

"Is that all there is?"

He could read me like a book. Either that or my nervousness was quite evident. "I just- I'm scared of the reactions we'll get. I mean, you're out to most people, but I'm only out to our group. Cartman is going to be there because he went with Red and I just know he's going to say something to make me regret ever showing up."

"Just relax. This will go fine. And if not, then fuck this little hick town. I love you, and nothing is changing that. They can shove their homophobia right up their asses. Besides, I'll be right there with you the whole time. I've got your back."

I smile a little at that. "Thanks, Craig."

When we arrived, he told me to wait a moment. Before I could question it, he was out of the truck and to my side, opening the door for me.

"Why thank you, my dear," I said, making my voice sound a bit overly posh.

"It is my pleasure," Craig said, mimicking the voice I had done, a smile following.

After showing the woman at the doors our tickets, we entered. To say the least, it was the fanciest I had ever seen the gym look. The bleachers had been folded, and whatever had collected underneath was swept away, leaving more room for the couples in formal wear to slow dance. A concession table was set up in a far corner, by the sound table that was currently playing Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran.

"You want to join in now or wait until the next dance?" Craig asked.

"I'd rather dance and get this nervous feeling out of my system," I answered.

With that, we were in the middle of it all, dancing as if we were any ordinary couple. Naturally, we got plenty of weird looks. Some girls seemed to envy me while their boyfriends seemed to want to beat me up either because their girlfriend was staring or I happened to be with a guy.

Craig noticed me looking around and pulled me a bit closer. "Just relax. Pretend that no one is here, that it's just you and me," he said softly, into my ear so that I could hear over the music.

I nodded, and took a deep breath. I figured there was nothing they could do to me that hasn't been done to me before. I shut my eyes, moving in time with Craig as he led, getting lost in the feeling of his touch and the sound of the music. It was all wonderful scenery, really, once you got past all the stares.

We danced for a few songs before we decided to take a break. He went to the restroom while I avoided dancers to get to the concessions for something to drink.

I cringed as I heard the annoying voice of none other than Eric Cartman behind me. "I always knew you were a faggot, Kenny."

I shrugged. "At least I have a date. What happened to Red? Did she abandon you for someone that isn't a total dickhead?"

"Actually, I left her. She was being a bitch."

"Yeah, sure," I said sarcastically. "Whatever helps your ego."

He scoffed. "So where's your boy toy now?"

"That's none of your business."

As intimidating as Eric wanted to be, he wasn't at all. He was simply annoying. Not to mention, the scenario seemed like something from a really clichè and terrible movie, only adding to my annoyance.

Thankfully, I got rid of him quick when he happened to spot Kyle with his date. No doubt he was going to go pester him instead.

Craig came back shortly after and we were dancing once again. I relaxed as the night went on, even resting my head on his shoulder.

The evening slipped by quickly. It went well, far better than I had expected, and I had a grin on my face as we drove back to Craig's house.

I planned to go back home the next night, wanting to spend as much of prom night as I could with Craig. The night was spent as usual.

We ended up getting pretty heated during a make out session, but didn't go too far, knowing the consequences of not taking proper measures. Despite terrible sex ed, I had certainly fooled around enough in the past to experience what could happen.

Afterwards, we spooned, and somehow ended up getting into yet another deep conversation.

"You know, I'm scared of the inevitability of you dying before me. Like, I don't even know if I'll ever truly die. For all I know, I could keep living until I'm practically a skeleton. Or I could be reborn, and live so many lifetimes that I'm eventually the last man on Earth, suffering alone." A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. I had never really expressed it aloud. That would only make it even more true.

"Well, you'll see me in the afterlife, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but that's not really the same. I don't stay dead for long, maybe a few days at the most, and that's on rare occasions."

"I think it's best to just live for what we have now. We can worry about that when we get there. I'm not dying any time soon." Craig kissed the top of my head and pulled me a bit closer.

"As always, you're right," I said, chuckling. Though, I couldn't help the thoughts of it in my mind.

Eventually, we drifted off to sleep, peacefully dreaming.

The next day, we went out for coffee, then saw a movie together. A classic date, but a date nonetheless, and I couldn't have asked for it any other way.

Just after the sun set that night, Craig took me home. As usual, we stopped at the train tracks so as not to draw the attention of whoever was in the house. We shared a brief kiss before I got out of the truck, and slowly approached my rundown home, a feeling of nervousness brewing in my stomach.

I was met with my father as soon as I opened the door.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked. His voice wasn't raised, yet he seemed angry, making him all the more terrifying.

"I had to study with a friend," I lied.

He saw right through me. "That's bullshit! Your friend Eric has let me in on a little secret." _Fuck_. "You're dating that little faggot of a son that the Tuckers have."

Before I could make up some sort of excuse, his fist met my jaw with such force that I was sent to the ground. Pain throbbed through the area, and I knew it would only get worse.

My family is extremely homophobic, Karen and I being the exception. So, it was safe to assume that Dad was far angrier than he had ever been before.

While I lay there, trying to brace myself, a hard kick landed on my ribs. Another one, even harder, landed in the same place, and I felt the snap of one, possibly more, of my ribs. I cried out in pain, but that didn't stop him. A few kicks later, another one broke. It was becoming increasingly harder to breathe.

He'd had a beer bottle in his hand the whole time, mostly empty. He swung if down, causing it to shatter on my head. I felt the glass cut deep into the skin of my forehead, but it didn't feel like I'd gotten a concussion. I had only had one once, and I could remember clearly how bad it felt. The pain in my head wasn't quite the same as it had been at that time.

The entire time he was screaming expletives, insulting me in the worst ways he could think of. The words hurt, but the physical pain was far worse. I could hardly bare it.

My vision was beginning to tinge with black, and my eyes felt heavy. I knew I was going to die. What then? Would the cycle repeat as if he hadn't beaten the shit out of me? I didn't know, and I couldn't possibly think over the pain. Soon enough, I had lost consciousness.


	13. Hospital

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

I was in and out of consciousness for the next day or so. It was hard to tell time when I hadn't even opened my eyes far enough to see past my eyelashes.

The first time I awoke, I heard an unfamiliar voice describing what sounded like various injuries. I couldn't really decipher since it was all muddled in my mind. The next voice that came was Craig's, but I had fallen asleep again before I could make out what he was saying.

The next time, I heard Karen's voice. She was saying something about me waking up. Though, her excitement was short-lived as I was again drifted off.

The third time was the charm. I woke up with a dry mouth and my body aching all over. I slowly opened my eyes, thankful that the curtains were drawn and the light in the room wasn't very bright. I heard breathing nearby, and turned my head to the side to see Craig fidgeting in a chair and giving me a concerned look.

"Are you actually awake this time?" he asked hopefully.

"I think so..." I said softly, my voice scratchy. "What happened?" I asked.

I glanced around the room. I laid in a white bed that was just over the fine line between comfortable and uncomfortable. An IV was attached to my arm that was riddled with bruises. The walls of the room were a pastel bluish color, seeming to be the only color in the boring room. A small television in front of my bed was playing some weird family game show. I'd been in this situation more times than I probably should have been, so I knew it was a hospital. Hell's Pass Hospital, to be exact.

"Do you not remember last night?"

"Sort of. I just thought I died."

Craig shook his head. "Karen got home last night to see you passed out on the floor with your dad still beating you. She ran to call me, not knowing what else to do. She was bawling her eyes out, saying she thought you were going to die. I got there as soon as I could. Your dad had begun to go for Karen, who had locked herself in your bedroom, by the time I got there. I managed to detain him, taking a few punches to the face in the process. Karen and I rushed you to the hospital, and they had no choice but to call the police," Craig explained.

"Jesus Christ..." I mumbled.

"Sorry, too much, too soon?"

"A little. I just need time to process it, is all."

He nodded. "I understand. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit."

"With three broken ribs, that sounds about right."

I cringed at the sound of that. I knew I had heard the sound of my own bones snapping, and it just brought the noise back. It was grotesque and I would never get used to hearing it.

"So where's Karen?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Either talking to the doctors to get information on your condition out of them or making herself another cup of coffee downstairs in the cafeteria."

A thought then occurred to them. If Karen was keeping herself awake with coffee, I could only imagine how much sleep Craig was missing. "Have you slept at all?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I was too worried. The doctors said you would wake up, despite the severity of your injuries, but I was still scared to lose you."

A doctor soon entered, interrupting our conversation. "Ah! You're finally awake!" he said happily. "How are you feeling."

"Like shit," I answered, not really in the mood to filter my profanity.

The doctor nodded, and jotted something down on his clipboard. "We'll be sure to get you some painkillers right away. I'm Dr. Smith. The two nurses that will come by regularly will vary."

I nodded, not really paying attention. There was a reason he didn't ask about allergies. Everyone in Hell's Pass knew my info. I ended up there a lot as a kid because I always did stupid stuff.

He was soon out of the room. A nurse named Blaire came a few minutes later. She stuck yet another needle through my arm so the painkillers could go through my blood stream.

Once we had privacy again, Craig turned to me. "Police are still here. They're waiting to ask you questions, but once you're doped up, that may be impossible. Either way, I don't think they're just going to stand by this time. You could have died if it weren't for Karen getting home when she did."

"I would come back, though, and I wouldn't be in this much pain," I pointed out.

"You can't rely on death to take you away from life's problems," Craig responded.

I sighed. "I know, but it's hard when it's all I've known."

He moved closer to the bed and ran a hand through my hair. "Besides, this way is better for the future, not just the present."

I yawned, still feeling sleepy despite how long I slept possibly being considered a minor coma.

"You should rest," Craig said.

I wasn't really in the mood to argue. Even though he was right, I wanted to keep talking to him. I wanted him to tell me that it would be okay. I wanted him to tell me that shit hadn't just hit the fan. "Come closer." I opened my arms, a gesture for him to come lie down with me. The bed was certainly big enough to fit both of our lanky bodies.

"I don't want to hurt you. And if a doctor comes in, they'll be pissed," he said.

"It'll be fine. Just...please? You can go back to the chair when I fall asleep. I just want you next to me right now," I begged.

He sighed and moved to lay in bed beside me. "Just let me know if you're uncomfortable or anything."

I was about to say something more, but bit my tongue instead. _It's no worse than the feeling of all your bones breaking at once._

It didn't take long at all for me to drift back to sleep, even after all the sleeping I had previously done.

The next time I awoke, Craig was gently shaking my shoulder. My eyelids felt heavy, but I forced myself to wake up.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

"The police want to talk to you. Are you feeling up to it?"

"Gimme a minute to wake up." I located the remote that shifts the bed, and made it to where I was sitting up. "Are they coming in here or do I have to go to them?"

"The doctors would throw a fit if you left your bed. They're coming in here, and I have to leave the room," he explained.

My heart dropped at that. I knew he had to leave so it would be one on one and I'm not forced to say anything, but I still wanted him to be there for support. I knew they wouldn't give in to letting him stay, though. So, I simply nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later, a dark-skinned man accompanied by a pale woman entered. The woman had red hair like my mother. Oh fuck, my mom. What happened to her?

"Hello, Kenneth," the woman greeted with a smile. "I'm Officer Watson and this is Officer Whitehurst."

I nodded. Their introductions weren't really necessary. They had their names clearly written on badges pinned to their uniform. "Just Kenny is fine," I told them.

"Alright, Kenny. Let's not beat around the bush. What happened that night that got you put here?" the man asked.

I thought a moment. That night was a blur, and I really just wanted to shut it out and never think of it again. "I've, um, I've been dating Craig for a while. We thought it would be okay to go to prom together, but someone told my dad. When I went back home, he was waiting for me. One thing led to another, and I passed out, only to wake up here."

They jotted down notes. "Has anything like this happened before?" Watson asked.

I nodded. "My father is an alcoholic and a drug addict. He gets mad really easily and usually his anger is taken out on me, verbally and physically."

Again, they wrote down what I said before speaking again. "And what about your mom?"

I really didn't want to talk about my mom. I didn't want her to get into legal trouble. She was so much better than my dad. But I knew that lying would only make things worse for me. "She tries her best to be a good mom, but just like my dad, she's an addict. Sometimes she says things in the heat of the moment, but she's only hit us a few times, and it wasn't as bad as when my dad hits us," I explained.

"Your family lives in poverty, correct?" I nodded. It was no secret that we were the poorest family in town. "So when did all this begin?"

I thought back, but couldn't really remember how old I was. As long as I can remember, my family has always been dysfunctional, though, not quite this bad. "I don't know," I said. "My earliest memory of being beat is when I was around five."

More sounds of pen to paper filled the room before they stood. "That's all for now, Kenny. We'll leave you to rest," Whitehurst said before they left the room.

Craig returned seconds after, wanting to know what happened. After I explained, he sighed. "At least you told the truth. I hope you're prepared to fight for your rights in court, though. If you don't, you and Karen will be sent into foster care."

"Jesus, could this get any worse?" I asked, sighing.

"Probably, but for the sake of all of our sanity, let's hope it doesn't."

"Speaking of Karen, though, where is she?" I asked. I hadn't seen her in days, and I was really worried about how she was holding up.

"I took her to my house while you were sleeping. She's in good care with my parents." I nodded, and we were silent a moment before he changed the subject. "How are the painkillers working?"

I shrug. "I can still feel it all, to an extent, but the pain is lessened a lot. I think my body just reacts weirdly with painkillers. I'm pretty sure most people with such a high dosage would be really loopy, but I only feel tired."

Craig shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe you were in more pain than you thought."

"Maybe..."

At some point, we had stopped talking, and turned our attention to the television in front of my bed. Despite the scoldings from doctors, Craig laid in bed with me, and eventually, I fell asleep again.

Days in the hospital passed idlely. They were boring and meshed together, to the point that I truly had no idea how many days I had stayed there. The only excitement was from talking to Craig and anticipating the day I saw Karen again. The nurses that came in every hour were annoying and the television shows I watched when Craig wasn't there were generic and cheesy. Altogether, it wasn't such a great experience, but I supposed it was better than being at home.

_Home. What would happen now that my home was broken beyond repair?_


	14. A New Life

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

I was soon released from the hospital, and taken to Craig's house. On the way there, he explained that his family would be taking care of Karen and I until all the legal stuff gets settled.

Before Craig had even finished helping me get out of the truck, Karen had come running. I could tell she was resisting the urge to wrap me in the tightest hug she could muster.

Honestly, I wanted to pick her up and spin her like in those clichè movies where the couple or whatever is reunited after a long time. Instead, I ruffled her hair, and gave her a brief hug.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, looking me over. "You look tired, but a bit better."

"Yeah, that's a good way to put it."

She smiled and took my hand that wasn't occupied with Craig's, and led me into the house. The rest of the Tucker family was waiting for me when I entered.

"This isn't going to be another of those stupid serious conversations again, is it? Look, I get it. My situation is shit, but all this interrogation isn't helping," I huffed.

"You weren't kidding when you said he was easy to annoy right now," Ruby said to Craig, earning glares from both of us.

"Well, this is serious, but I'll make this short. Craig told us he was gay a few years ago, and ever since then we have accepted our son wholeheartedly. Now, Kenny, I know you're a good kid, so I'm glad that Craig has chosen someone like you," Thomas said.

"Well this got sappy really fast," I remarked.

"Alright, that's enough, sassy pants," Craig said, taking my hand.

I laughed softly, ignoring the slight pain that arose when I did so. It would be like that for God knows how long. It's almost as if happiness is now forbidden. "Sassy pants?" I asked, grinning.

"Whatever, just come on."

And with that, I was dragged to Craig's bedroom.

"Now, I would sit here and lecture you about how you need to take care of yourself, but I think you've heard enough of that from the doctors the week you were in the hospital."

"Wait, that was only a week?"

Craig nodded. "They upped your dose of painkillers after the second or third day, so it's not a surprise you don't remember the days."

I wrinkled my nose just thinking about it. "Don't even bring those up. Sure, they help, but my mouth was dryer than the fucking desert all the time."

Craig chuckled. "Look, I know you've been through shit, so why are you only complaining about a dry mouth and not the fact that you have, like, three broken ribs?"

I shrugged in response. "Some small problems seem huge, and some huge problems seem insignificant."

"Confusing as ever, I see," he said, smiling softly.

We continued to talk the day away as if nothing was wrong, as if everything was right in the world again. But, I knew this wasn't true. The gnawing feeling of knowing I would have to go back to school the next day and face everyone still remained.

The morning that followed was inevitable, and despite my protests, I was forced to go. I had stayed out of school longer than necessary, the healing process nearly halfway done. So, with reluctance, I got dressed and headed out for school with Craig.

The moment I entered the building, I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I knew rumors would start, and I would get hell for my family being so horrid. I could only imagine what Karen had been through.

Craig and I had to go our separate ways as we went into first period. I had to stop by my locker first, and that was where I encountered the person who I least wanted to see, Eric fucking Cartman.

"What do you want?" I spat.

"Woah, Kenny. Why are you so angry?" He raised his hands up in defense.

"Hmm, let me think...maybe because it's you that got me into this fucking mess." I ended the conversation before it went any further, shutting my locker with more force than necessary. I had to resist the urge to slam his head in there.

Thankfully, he didn't follow, and I was soon in my seat as class began.

Throughout the day, I heard people whispering about where I had been, and what had happened after prom. Everyone knew, something that was to be expected of such a small mountain town.

By the time lunch came around, I was ready for the day to end. I was lucky enough to be in a group now that didn't question me if it was obvious I didn't want to talk. So, it was conversation as usual. At least then nothing was mentioned about me.

"C-Craig told me you w-would be back today, so I - ngh - packed you a lunch again," Tweek said, sliding the brown paper bag across the table.

I gave him a soft smile, and began eating. It was nice to have something other than bland hospital food.

Every so often, Craig would glance at me, and I saw an expression in his eyes that I knew far too well. He was worried, probably because I wasn't talking much. I didn't blame him. I knew I had sort of retreated behind my walls again after the incident.

I was reluctant to go back to class when the bell rang. I still had the second half of the day to endure while people gossiped as if I weren't right next to them and able to hear everything.

I was buried in homework by the time the day ended. Being gone a week during exam season makes it hell to catch up. Craig had promised to help me, though, which I was thankful for.

After school, I was waiting for Craig outside the front of the building where the student parking lot was. He usually went to his locker after school, so I got there first, and had to wait, which I usually had no problems with. But, that day was particularly different.

A certain bulky figure obstructed my vision of the cars pulling out of the lot, and I knew who it was before I even looked at their face.

"Kenny, hear me out," Eric pleaded.

"You have one minute. That's it. Then I'm fucking done with you."

"I'm sorry about what happened, really. I just, you pushed us away, and we want you back. We thought that, like, maybe you would be forbidden from seeing Craig and that's all," he explained.

I knew not to believe his bullshit for even a second. He was a master of lies. I had to admit, it seemed a bit believable, but I knew he was just trying to cover up yet another cruel act so he could keep his reputation.

Thankfully, Craig finally stepped out of the school. "Time's up." Then, I ran to catch up with him.

"Why were you talking to Cartman?" he asked.

"He was just bullshitting me about why he told my dad we were dating," I said with a shrug.

"Jesus Christ, does he ever stop?"

"Nope. Why do you think he still teases Kyle for every little thing?"

"He's such a dick," he muttered.

The drive to Craig's house was filled with worried glances aimed at me. Finally, he spoke up. "Are you okay?"

"Physically or mentally?" I asked.

"Both."

I thought a moment. Was I okay? I wasn't quite sure. So, I gave a shrug. "I'm not the lowest of the low right now, but I'm not exactly spectacular."

"Understandable. Promise to still talk to me about what's going on in that kind of yours?"

I offered my hand to him, my fingers slightly bent aside from my pinky. "Pinky promise."

Craig smiled softly and briefly took one hand off the wheel to link his pinky with mine. "I love you," he said as he returned his hand to its original place.

"I love you, too." I returned his smile.

Once inside, we began working. I had a week to make up the work I had missed, and that was plenty of time, but if we didn't work then, we would procrastinate like any other high schooler.

After getting the work from two subjects done, I had a pounding headache and it was nearly nine at night.

"Babe, just take a break. You can work tomorrow. It's getting late," Craig said in response to my exasperated groan. He had been watching Red Racer, waiting on me to finish or at least take a break so I could join him.

I sighed, and did as he had suggested, crawling into bed next to him. Cuddling was a bit odd since most ways to lay down either hurt or were just mildly uncomfortable, but somehow, we made it work.

I rested my head on his chest, inhaling the faint smell of his cologne that I loved so much.

"Thank you," I mumbled, the words seemingly coming out of nowhere.

"For what?" he asked curiously.

"As clichè as this is going to sound, you saved me. I don't believe I'll ever be able to thank you enough."

"You being here is thanks enough." He ran a hand through my blond locks.

"How much more do you think my life will change?" I asked.

He shrugged. "That's something fate will have to decide."

"Well I'm ready for whatever new life I have ahead of me," I said. "And I'm glad to have you here with me because I don't think I could ever put into words how happy you make me and how lucky I am to have you." I was rambling at that point, something I did when I was sleepy. Craig picked up on this as he usually did.

"We should sleep. You've had a long day, and I don't think tomorrow will be any easier."

I nodded, and kissed him softly. I shifted positions once again to get more comfortable, then let sleep take over.

I really had spoken my mind with Craig. I didn't what I would do without him, and he made me so incredibly happy that I didn't think any combination of words in any language, let alone the English one, could express my feelings for him. He had slowly made me begin to love life, even the new one that was forming for me. I truly couldn't thank him enough for everything.


	15. Epilogue and Author's Note

**_Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, South Park._**

* * *

To say the least, shit hit the fan with my family. I had so many court dates, that I couldn't count them all. Eventually, I convinced them that I can live on my own and take care of Karen.

Dad went to jail, and Mom got sent to some sort of therapy for abused wives. I was glad that my mother got the benefit of the doubt. She always has been nice, even if she wasn't the best mother.

I work two jobs now, but the pay and hours are good, so Karen and I live happily in our small apartment.

It's going to take years of healing to get over the effects of such a broken home. I sometimes wake up to Karen screaming my name, wanting me to come save her. It takes me a while to convince her that we're safe, that we no longer live in that house. Maybe one day I'll get us in a financially stable enough position to make therapy appointments.

Craig and I are still happily together, for which I am glad. Without him, I would have never healed, and would have stayed the same hopeless kid I was before. He's always there for me when I need a shoulder to cry on. I don't ever want to go back to the way I was before. Back then, I wasn't living, I was only surviving, and no one deserves to go through that.

Life may not be the greatest, but it is certainly worthwhile. I'm glad I battled my demons. Some nights, I still feel worthless, like I should just be dead, but I'm not really suicidal. It's more like I believe my immortality is unfair to so many other people whose lives were cut short and dragged from this world by Death's cold, bony grip.

It still seems like there are more bad days than good sometimes, but I'm learning to cope, slowly but surely.

Eric hadn't spoken to me again since his so-called apology. I supposed that my cruelty had gotten through to him, and I was thankful for that. He always has been, and always will be, a toxic person, and I never needed him in my life in the first place, he had just managed to worm his way in in grade school.

Of course, not all problems were solved. I face new ones now. I have to worry about paying rent, making sure Karen gets everything she needs, and working both jobs all while still going to school. I can't even begin to count how many times I have wanted to drop out.

I worry about the day my dad will get out of jail. It will be years from now, but it's a day that will come eventually, a day I don't think I'll ever be ready for. There are plenty of things in the future I still fear, like what will become of everyone I love when immortality forces me to continue living. I try not to think about it too much since it's still decades from now that any of that will come true.

Life is good, it's happy, and even though it's not perfect, I have surely learned to love it.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry the epilogue is so short. I just figured it would be a nice way to wrap up the loose ends of the story._**

**_I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck with this story for so long. It's my first completed and chaptered story I've written, and I'm proud of how it turned out._**

**_This story originally started out as a way to vent out my darker thoughts, the ones in the deep depths of my mind. I've struggled with depression, self harm, and anxiety for quite a while now. While I'm not going to sit here and tell my whole story, I will say that this story has helped me in recovery. When I started this, I was at one of my lowest points by far. Now, I'm at the best I've been in years, and I don't think I would have been able to do this without all of you, so thank you all._**

**_My next story will be less triggering, and I hope all of you stick around for that ride, too._**

**_With all that said, I will end all this here._**

_f i n._


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